Nightshade: The Pursuit
by Wolf Skinchanger
Summary: Having closed the wormhole left behind by Philaemos, the dark hunter chases his foe across Mossflower and beyond. Set after Taggerung. Third in the Nightshade Saga.
1. Recovery

All characters within this story, unless otherwise noted, are the creation and property of someone other than me. This story was written purely for fun, and I'm not making any money off of it. So call off your lawyers.

Nightshade, Philaemos, and Perry sprang from my mind. I'm willing to share, but who am I fooling? It's not like I can stop you.

**

* * *

**

-Recovery-

-Nightshade's POV-

"Ohhhh..."

Sitting up, I put a hand to my head. It felt like someone (possibly Rhinox) had punched me several times across the cranium.

When the feeling abated enough, I let my hand fall and looked around, trying to get a grip on my situation. It wasn't easy; my optic sensors had not yet been fully restored, and the further I tried to look, the blurrier the image appeared.

The first thing I noticed was that I wasn't where I had landed. Instead, I'd been placed carefully in what felt like a human bed. Certainly nothing on the _Axalon_ had been so soft as my current accommodation. I even had a blanket; that was new.

The next thing that caught my attention was the fact that the energy surge I had experienced on my way here had mutated my body. Instead of robotic, the form I now wore was flesh-and-blood organic, which meant I wouldn't be able to transform, or radio for help. My appearance was very similar to my beast mode, except that the mobility of my skeletal structure was the same as my robot form.

What was it the humans called that phenomenon? Anthropo-something-or-other. Well, whatever it was, I'd switched between both forms several times. Adjusting to an "in-between" form shouldn't be too difficult. It was easy enough to figure out. I would walk as a biped rather than a quadruped. I took a couple of clicks to experiment with my forepaws, finding that they flexed and grasped exactly like my robot hands.

_No,_ I corrected myself, _not exactly._ At rest, my forepaws naturally assumed a grasping position, as though my fingers were curled around the handle of a sword. A result of installing bat's feet, I realized; I'd read somewhere that that was how bats didn't fall from their ceiling perches when they were sleeping.

Lowering my paws, I noticed a bandage wrapped around my right elbow. A quick search of the rest of my new form revealed three other bandages. One was tied to my right ankle, another was wound around my stomach, and the last one was a splint, holding my left wing closed about four inches below the claw joint. All of which meant someone had been helping me recover from that rough landing. These organic forms were so slaggin' _fragile._

Apart from the blanket and the scattering of bandages up and down my new body, I didn't have a thing on me, but that came as no surprise. I'd had no need for clothes when I'd left Earth, and couldn't have known that the energy surge would do this to me. I'd have to find some way of explaining that to whoever had brought me here, though.

More beds were arranged in neat rows around me, though none seemed filled. Taking my bound wounds into account, I surmised that the room I now occupied was probably an "infirmary", the human equivalent of a Restoration Chamber. I'd been lucky enough to get a bed near the window, and sunlight was shining through it now. The rest of the room was just a blur of red.

"Ah. Finally, you're awake," a voice said, in a slow, deliberate manner. I turned my head toward the source, but could only see a green and tan shape. "Good to see you've made it."

I blinked hard, trying to bring back some far-distance focus. "Rhinox? Is that you?"

As soon as I asked, I knew it couldn't be Rhinox. This person was speaking with an Earth dialect--Middle ages English, unless I was mistaken--and Rhinox preferred Cybertronian over human speech. I suppose I was lucky; having heard a human language, I'd instinctively responded in kind. Had I replied in Cybertronian, it would likely have only confused this person.

"Sorry. I don't know any 'Rhinox'." The stranger approached the side of the bed, his image slowly sharpening until I could make out the individual features of a large hedgehog, bipedal like myself, wearing a green robe of some kind or another, and sandals. "My name is Egburt Spearback. And you are?"

"Raving mad to have taken this journey so unprepared," I deadpanned. "But my friends call me Nightshade. Any other questions, Mr. Spearback?"

"Just plain Brother Egburt will do. And I'm certain the Abbess Mhera would probably ask you the same questions at dinner that I would ask here. Just as I'm certain that _you_ have more questions than I do. So I'll try to answer as best I can."

"Okay." Making sure to shift the blanket to keep my lower torso covered, I turned to face the hedgehog, and let my feet dangle over the side of the bed. "I'll start you off with the easy ones: Where am I, who brought me here, and how long have I been asleep?"

"You are in the infirmary of Redwall Abbey. I have been assisting your recovery since the Skipper and Deyna brought you in yesterday afternoon."

"My deepest gratitude, then, to all of you." I inclined my head toward the hedgehog. "Next, and don't sugarcoat it: How long, in your professional opinion, will it be before I can properly see again?"

"With only minimal head injuries, I suspect that your eyes simply need time to adjust. It shouldn't be long at all."

I realized quickly that Egburt was right. While we'd been talking, the room had slowly been coming into focus. With a few more hard blinks, everything was as sharp as before.

"Well, that's cleared that up, then." Another wave of pain hit me, and I returned my paw to my cranium. "Next question: What can you do for a head that feels like it's been shoved between two of these blocks?" I patted the wall beside me with my free paw.

"Well, for that..." The hedgehog walked to a supply cabinet, pulled out a small pitcher, and poured some of the contents into a smooth carved wooden mug, which he then carried back to my bed. "Drink this. It'll take care of that headache in no time."

"Thank you." Accepting the cup, I took a cautious sip. Flinching at the taste, I nevertheless drained the herbal concoction as quickly as I could stand to, then returned the mug. "How bad are my injuries right now, and how soon can I be expected to recover fully? And again, don't sugarcoat it. If it's bad, I want to know."

"It's not too bad, all things accounted for. The worst of it is the sprain in your left wing. You shouldn't try to fly again until tomorrow morning, at least."

"Yeah, that landing was pretty rough."

"Well, other than that, you should be well enough to move freely by dinnertime. You woke up just in time, too. I was beginning to worry that you were going to sleep through the Summer Feast tomorrow night."

"Which brings me to my final question: When's lunch?"

"You just missed it, actually. But I will bring a tray up, and something for you to wear. That was one of the strangest things about you, if I am not too bold by saying; you didn't have a thing on you when Deyna found you, except this." He reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out a circular, onyx-black medallion bearing the Maximal insignia in silver. The medallion hung from a matching black chain.

My spy mentality told me it was moment-of-truth time. "I've heard bolder," I said dismissively, accepting the pendant. "The fact is, I didn't expect to be knocked out of the sky; certainly not by a stray wind. This is all I really had to wear in the first place."

"Well, you'll have something soon enough. Our Head Chef, Broggle, took the necessary measurements as soon as I had bound your wounds. He's quite handy with a needle, (although where he finds the time I can't say) and he's working on something for you even as we speak, using one of the Skipper's spare tunics as a template. He just needs a little more time to put on the finishing touches. He's always been a little finicky about detail, but don't tell him I said that."

"My lips are sealed."

"Now, I shouldn't keep a hungry beast waiting, so I'll get that tray for you." Putting the cup in a washbasin, Egburt walked out of the infirmary.

"I'll be here!" I called after him. I caught a flicker of a ghost of a smile on the healer's face as he turned into the hall.

* * *

By the time Egburt returned, the herbal painkiller had run its course, leaving my head feeling much better. I had already placed the medallion around my neck, and the chain was only barely visible against my fur.

Egburt was carrying a small folding table. He was followed by a young mouse, dressed in a similar green robe and sandals, and lugging a flagon and a bowl of hot fish stew with an ornate spoon handle sticking out over the rim.

"Here, let me help you with that," I offered. As soon as Egburt got close enough, I reached out and grabbed the table, locking the top in place while the hedgehog relieved the mouse of the bowl.

"You'll enjoy this," Egburt said, placing the bowl on the table. "Be careful; it's fresh from the pot."

"Sounds good," I replied, breathing deep. "And it smells delicious."

"You'll like this too," the mouse said, holding up the flagon. "October Ale is one of the things Redwall is famous for."

"Thank you." Accepting the drink, I placed it next to the bowl. "My name's Nightshade. What's yours?"

"It's Perry."

"Well, Perry, judging from what I've seen so far, I'm willing to bet that well-mannered creatures like yourself are another side of Redwall's fame."

Apparently embarrassed by the compliment, the young mouse averted his eyes for a second, then returned his gaze to my face. "There's something I'd like to ask you, if that's okay."

"Sure, fire away."

Perry pointed at the splint on my wing. "When that heals, will you take me flying? I've often wondered what it feels like."

"Well, I'm not really built for passengers, but I think you're small enough." I smiled and pointed out the window, toward the outer wall. "Tomorrow after lunch, meet me on the walltop. You're going to love it, I can tell you that. Nothing in the world can compare to the feeling of the wind beneath you."

"Thank you." Bowing slightly, Perry walked calmly from the room. As soon as he was out of sight, however, I could hear a quiet, but plainly joyful cheer.

Having watched the mouse exit the room, Egburt turned back toward me. "Perry lives for discovery. He's always interested in something new or different."

"Well, he and I should get along just fine, then." Lifting the spoon from the bowl, I blew at the contents, popped the spoonful in my mouth, and pulled out the empty spoon.

I shifted the chunks of fish and vegetables around my mouth a bit, then swallowed. "You were right. This is good." In truth, it was better than anything I'd ever tasted before, but I suspected that if I stayed here, then that would change before long. After all, I didn't have any real experience in the concept of "food."

"I'm glad you like it. Your clothes should be done by now, so I'll just go get them," Egburt said. "When you've finished eating, I'd like to take a moment to reexamine your wounds, and then you'll be free to walk around the Abbey."

"Not a problem at all."

Egburt left me to my meal, returning just as I was washing down the last of my stew with the last drop of October Ale from the flagon.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked, placing a set of neatly folded clothing on the bed next to mine.

"It appears I spoke too soon when I said nothing compares to the thrill of flying," I said, putting down the flagon. "Certainly, this meal was a very close approximation, though it was a different manner of thrill."

"So, you did enjoy it then."

"Yes, a good deal."

"I'm glad to hear that." After moving the folding table carefully out of the way, Egburt stepped closer, reaching for the bandage on my right arm--then pulled back as I stiffened up instinctively.

"Relax, please. This is only routine follow-up."

"I'm sorry." I tried to will my hackles back down, but unfortunately, epinephrine doesn't come with an override. "It's just... medical needs, by necessity of circumstance, had to be handled very differently at my previous home."

"In what way?"

"Well, first and foremost, I've never had to be carried to the doctor before, or even had to ask how bad it was. We of the _Axalon_ were all trained to know at the drop of a hat if we needed medical attention, and always had at least a small idea of what was wrong with us. On top of that, there often wasn't time for any follow-up, routine or otherwise."

"What kind of circumstances could bring on such necessity?"

"The same kind that left me without anything to wear." I held out my arm.

Egburt placed his paws on the bandage, gently but firmly pressing his fingers into the material. "How does that feel?"

"Like a massage."

"Hmmm." Slowly, Egburt untied the bandage, pulled it off of my elbow, and placed it on the bed next to my clothes. He then pressed his fingers into my exposed arm. "How about that?"

"Same. Right down to the afterglow."

"No pain?"

"Not even the discomfort of sand in your sandal."

"Then there's no more need for this." Egburt folded the bandage into a nine-inch-long bundle, using the ends to tie the layers in place, and then dropped to one knee next to my bed, facing toward the headboard. "Right leg."

Obediently, I lifted my foot, waiting while Egburt guided it so that the calf muscle rested on his raised knee.

Egburt pressed his fingers against the bound ankle, and again inquired toward the result.

"Same," I said curtly.

Wordlessly, the healer removed the binding, repeated the process, and gave me a questioning look.

"Less afterglow," was my reply. "But in essence, it's still the same."

Nodding as though he'd expected that response, Egburt gently removed my leg from his own, stood up, folded the cloth strip, and placed it next to the first one. "Turn around, please."

Properly trusting the healer by now, I swung my shins up and twisted on my butt, coming to rest with my back to the hedgehog.

I felt Egburt place his paws on either side of my back, just below and between my wings. "How's this?"

"More of the same." Knowing the routine, I opened the knot that was resting against my stomach, unwound the binding, and twitched ever so slightly as Egburt's paws returned to my back.

"And this?" Egburt asked.

"Tickles just a bit." I smiled back at the healer, handing him the dressing. "Nothing new about that, though."

"Okay, then." Egburt placed the folded bandage next to its brothers, as I turned back to face him. "Now, before I continue, I should tell you that this is probably going to hurt."

"I'm no stranger to pain," I replied, lowering my left wing as much as I could, bound as it was. "So whatever it is you're doing, do it."

"All right." Egburt opened my splint, removing the boards that had been holding my wing in place. The bandage holding it all together flopped down over my wing as soon as the space between them was cleared. He then reached up to the space below the claw joint, and... stopped where he was. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

"Every time you ask, I become less certain," I told him. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not prolong it."

"On five, then," Egburt said. "One..." He grabbed my wing and held on tight with both paws.

To my credit, I held myself moderately still, but I couldn't (and didn't try to) stop a loud pained growl from escaping. "What in the name of Primus happened to five?"

"At five, you would have tensed up again," he said, still holding on as though for dear life. Not that holding on was increasing his chances right now. "I had to catch you off guard while you were still relaxed, to make it hurt less."

"You tricked me."

"For your own good. And I know that that doesn't make it any less annoying." Not hesitating any further, the healer worked over my wing joint, making certain all of the bones were aligned properly.

I responded with a few more pained winces, but I realized that the speed of Egburt's movements was helping me; each new sting was dulled somewhat by the one before.

"All seems to be in order," Egburt said finally. Releasing my wing, he removed the loose strip of cloth from around it and took a few steps back. "Give it a few flaps; see how it feels."

When I opened my wing, it made a noise like a human cracking his knuckles. I didn't know if that was normal after a day in a splint, but it didn't hurt anymore, which I assumed was a good sign.

Taking it slow to work out the stiffness, I flexed my wings open and shut a few times, noticing as I did so that my wings seemed more flexible than before. At their full extent, they spanned close to twelve feet, but I could fold my wings so small that--with adequate restraint--I might be able to hide them under a shirt, if I was of a mind to do so. This also meant that my wings wouldn't get in my way in a fight.

Once the muscle cramps eased, I pushed back and forth on my shoulder blades, letting the air pulse under both wings. I suspected that at least some of the windblast was hitting Egburt in the face, but the hedgehog didn't say or do anything about it. So either it wasn't, or it was and he thought he deserved it, or was enjoying it.

Both my wings felt fine, and Egburt seemed pleased when I said so, but stood behind his previous recommendation that I not try to fly again until the next day.

"In the meantime," he added, "make sure you stretch them every now and then to keep them from stiffening up."

"Stretch my wings to avoid muscle cramps. Got it."

"Well, that concludes the exam." Egburt passed me the set of clothes, and I put them down on my lap.

"I do have one other question, though," he said, sitting down where the clothes had been.

"What's that?" I asked, holding up the tunic for a closer look. It was navy blue in color, with a wavy pattern of dusk-gold embroidery along the neckline, and had short sleeves and slots down the back for my wings.

"Who's Primus?"

Mentally, I almost froze right there. In my pain and anger, I'd let the name slip out, and now I had to think of a cover story--fast. Well, no greater cover than the truth.

"He's the patron spirit of my people," I told him, lowering the tunic to my lap again. "We look to him for guidance and protection."

"Is that his symbol on your pendant?"

"Well, yes and no. The medallion I wear is the symbol of my people. Some, myself included, believe this means that it is also Primus's symbol. But this insignia was adopted sometime after the Great War, which ended a long time ago. Primus's original insignia is all but lost to history now. Few claim to remember exactly what it looked like, and fewer still can reproduce it."

"Could you tell me about this war?"

I had to act fast, and perform well. If he kept questioning me, I would let something slip that was harder to cover up. I gave him a just-loud-enough-to-be-heard sigh of veiled impatience before I responded, slipping in an annoyed undertone for good measure. "Could you at least let me get dressed before you interrogate me?"

Judging by Egburt's scared expression and echoing apology, that had hit him harder than I'd intended it to. "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. You're right, I-I-I shouldn't have... Sorry."

Skip forward to Scene Two: Damage Control. I immediately shifted my own face to one of open concern. "No, I'm sorry. These last few days haven't been the best of my life; I've been on edge all week. Except to bring me here when my wings gave out, fate has done me no favors on my journey so far. And I'm sorry if I sound ungrateful, because I'm not, but ultimately, that may not prove as large a favor as it now seems. I will answer your questions, and the Abbess's, as soon as I understand the full significance of this turn of events. Deal?"

"All right then." Egburt stood up. "I'll let the Abbess know you've awakened, and inform her of your request for time to think. When you are ready, give your story to Rosabel. As our Recorder, she'll want to write it down for the archives." So saying, he walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

I took a moment to consider the information I'd gathered so far.

Redwall Abbey. Back on Cybertron, before I'd first gone chasing after Cheetor, Daniel had told me a few things about the place, but I'd been under the impression that no such place actually existed. The very idea that rodents could develop enough intelligence to build a fortress of stone seemed preposterous.

Still, as an infiltration unit, I had to accept the facts when they slapped me in the face, as this had. And from an objective scientific standpoint, it fit together. The Vok had said, "Many of Philaemos's victims are still tied to their respective realities, unwilling to leave for want of justice." So if the dimension theory of reality held true, then it stood to reason that what was fiction in my reality was fact in another. And somehow, I had jumped between the two.

The creatures here were having a feast tomorrow night. I figured I was safe until then, but I still needed some form of story to tell them. And I would spend the time I had coming up with one.

With that in mind, I took another look at the clothes I had been issued with. The pants were child's play to figure out. My tail goes through the hole in the back. Simple. The tunic was slightly more difficult, until I noticed the columns of buttons at the waist; one column of three, just outside each wing. Then it became clear. Lower the center flap in the back between my wings, close it using the tabs on either side. The clothing felt pleasant over my fur, and my wings still had free movement.

Once everything was in place, with my medallion displayed over my tunic, I opened the infirmary door, and began my preliminary trip around the abbey.

**

* * *

**

-End Chapter One-


	2. Day of the Feast

**-The Day of the Feast-**

-Nightshade's POV-

Apparently, the Abbess knew how to bend over backwards, as the humans say. I'd asked for time to think, and she'd granted me a separate place to sleep that night, allowing me the option of having my dinner delivered there, instead of eating with the rest of the abbey creatures.

I'd eaten with the rest anyway; if they knew where I was, they'd be less likely to believe I was up to something. It was for this reason that after dinner, I'd told the Abbess about Perry's request to fly with me. With that knowledge, she could stave off potential panic at the source: A concerned parent.

These were the thoughts that were running through my mind as I approached the abbey wall from the west, swiftly flying low over the open fields. So low, in fact, that each time I flapped my wings, the tips brushed against the tall grass.

Up ahead, I could see Perry atop the west wall, waiting for me. At my request, he'd worn a light tunic and shorts for the flight. He'd be easier to carry that way.

The young mouse was shouting something. Given my velocity, proximity, and relative lack of altitude, it was probably something along the lines of "You're gonna crash", but I couldn't hear him over the wind rushing past my ears, and I knew exactly what I was doing, in any case.

With a stronger burst of my wings, I rose above the field, and shot up over the wall, giving Perry a quick pat on the head as I passed by. After that, I made a sharp loop in midair, and landed on the abbey roof, near the weathervane.

Perry looked up at me as I leapt forward and coasted toward him, using my wings as a glider to slow my descent to the wall top.

"You're late," he said, as soon as I'd touched down, a few feet from him. He was barefoot, probably because he didn't want to lose his sandals.

"Well, I was making sure that my wings still worked right. I told you already, I'm not really built for passengers." I didn't tell him that I'd also been getting used to the design of my new organic form.

It felt like I still had all of my original strength, but I wasn't fooled. I only had a fraction of my original mass, after all, and it still took the same amount of effort as it always had to keep myself in the air.

* * *

-Perry's POV-

"So, how do you want to do this?" Nightshade asked. "You ridin' on my back, or what?"

"No," I chuckled. "I'd get in the way of your wings." I turned and hopped onto one of the parapets, facing outward. "I want to feel it like you do," I said, spreading my arms in greeting to the sky. "Wind rushing all over you, where the only things holding you steady are growing out of your back."

"And you're laughing at the ground, because you know it can never bind you again." As Nightshade said this, he sounded like he knew what it felt like to be bound to the earth.

Nightshade moved into position behind me, grabbed me under the arms and pushed off from the parapet. After a short glide, we were up, the abbey falling away behind us.

* * *

-Nightshade's POV-

"How do you like the view?" I asked, slowing down when we'd hit a good altitude, roughly six hundred feet up.

"It's amazing!" Perry replied. "It's like looking at a map, only better! Better than I'd ever dreamed!"

"Wait until I really get going before you say that." With that, I closed my wings and dropped into a hunting dive, Perry screaming all the way down.

At two hundred feet, I turned upright and flared my wings, holding tight to my passenger. The parachute effect shot us back up into the air, where I hovered for a moment, letting Perry catch his breath.

"Don't do that again," he said, once he'd gotten his voice back. "At least, not without a warning."

"Understood." I waited a few more seconds, to make sure he'd recovered. "Ready for more?"

Perry nodded his head, albeit hesitantly. "I think so."

"All right."

* * *

"You're not done already?" the mouse asked ten minutes later, when he noticed which direction I was taking him. "It was just getting fun."

"I want to be close to Redwall when the feast starts, so we don't miss anything."

"Oh, crumbs."

"What's wrong?"

"The day before you arrived, I said I'd help get the feast set up. I need to get back there if I'm going to keep that promise."

"Hmmm." As I contemplated this, I could feel the wind shift. "Think you can handle a power glide?"

"As long as it won't involve another fall."

"Hold on, then."

By beating my wings in forward circles, I was able to use them in tandem with the wind to put an extra boost into my airspeed.

Slowing myself as I neared the abbey, I circled a few times before coming down on the lawn near the orchard. As soon as my footpaws hit and my wings closed, Perry let himself drop to the ground and ran inside. I followed at a more leisurely pace, deciding that I would assist as well if my aid were requested.

* * *

I had no sooner opened the front door than two young squirrels practically bounded over me, carrying a bench. They were followed by a pair of otters hefting a table. I recognized Deyna from dinner the previous night, when I'd personally thanked him and the Skipper for their help.

When the way was clear, I entered the building, taking in the sight of similar bustling activity. These creatures were remarkably organized in their tasks; they probably did this often. Each one knew where he or she was needed next, seemingly without direction, and they worked together with great alacrity and spirit.

Noticing a young mole having trouble with another bench, I picked my way through the crowd and offered to lend my strength to his burden.

"Thankee, zurr," was his reply. "You'm gurtly helpful."

"It's no trouble at all." I moved to the one end of the bench, lifted with one hand, and then ducked forward to lift the other end from beneath, shifting my center of gravity until I had the whole thing balanced over my shoulders, bracing it with my wings. "Where do you want it?"

Smiling, the mole led me back out the door, gently warning other creatures out of the way. I caught a few impressed stares as I passed the other working beasts; apparently this was not a feat that was attempted often.

By the time I reached the space on the lawn where the other furniture was set up, I felt I was beginning to understand why. It was difficult tipping and swinging the thing this way and that to get it through the door by myself, and balanced precariously as it was, I couldn't put it down again without dropping it.

Sensing my problem, Deyna bounded over and took one end of the bench, working with me to pull it away slowly until it rested on the ground between us.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," he said carefully, before I opened my mouth to thank him.

"What about?"

After a quick look around, Deyna led me to a quiet corner of the grounds, well away from the rest of the creatures.

"I'll be frank," he said. "I recognize that look in your eyes."

"What look?" I asked, not trying to sound innocent. I was genuinely confused, but I knew those who tried to sound innocent just made themselves look more guilty.

"I don't know what manner of secret you carry, so I won't jump to conclusions. But I know that for whatever reason, there's something that you're not saying. I would like to know what that is."

Uhhh, not gonna happen. "I'm scared to say it. The secret I hold within me could get me killed if it reaches the wrong ears."

"It will remain between us, then. You can trust me; I'm good at keeping secrets. What is it?"

I had to give him points for persistence. "I'll open the floor to questions at dinner. Listen to what I don't say. If that doesn't give you the answer you need, then I'll speak privately to you and Abbess Mhera afterward. If you're going to know, so should she."

"Deal." He moved to walk away, then looked back at me with a wry smile. "In the meantime, I suggest you decide which half-truths you're going to tell everybeast, if you don't already have a cover story."

"Nothing gets past you, does it?" I followed him back through the shifting tide of creatures, and we continued working toward getting the furniture set up.

* * *

**-End Chapter Two-**


	3. At the Feast

**-At the Feast-**

-Nightshade's POV-

There was a talent show for entertainment before the feast started. I was struck with mild stage fright when the Abbess called on me to perform, but once I fell into a simple rhythm, I was able to improvise a short midair dance routine from a series of martial arts that Airazor had taught me. It was a smash hit, no pun intended.

Later, as the sun was disappearing beyond the western horizon, the beasts of the abbey were gathered around the tables, which were arranged in an open square, sitting down to enjoy the fruits of their labors. I had a place of honor at the head table between Deyna and the Abbess.

When everyone had settled, Abbess Mhera recited a grace.

"May good fortune never cease,  
Where we plant and till the soil.  
Mother Nature grant us peace,  
And reward us for our toil.

Summer's come now life is sweet.  
Food is here for one and all.  
In good friendship let us eat,  
As one family at Redwall."

The gathered creatures raised their voices in a heartfelt "Amen." Then, all formality forgotten, the myriad beasts dug in with gusto, passing various dishes back and forth, chatting merrily, and just generally having a good time.

Several creatures slid all manner of Redwall fare toward me, while Deyna and the Abbess kept up a running commentary for me on the names of each of the different beasts, as well as each of their particular favorites.

It was all delicious, and I sank into the general camaraderie quickly and easily. Then I tried the Skipper's shrimp and hotroot soup.

I nearly fell over backwards as I jumped from my seat, frantically fanning at the inside of my mouth with both paws. Between sucking in quick breaths of the cool evening air, I managed to gasp out several phrases that were synonymous with "hot."

After a few minutes of this, I became aware of a beaker of liquid being held at arm's length toward me. Reaching out to take it, I wasted no time in draining the beaker bottoms-up. I probably spilled more than I drank, but it cooled the fire that was burning my mouth and throat from within, at least enough that I could coherently ask for a refill.

It was hard to miss the chuckles that my latest performance had earned. I suppose, had it been anyone else who had suffered through that, I would have joined the laughing bystanders. So rather than become angry with them, I just grinned humorously as I sat back down.

Abbess Mhera introduced my savior as Drogg Spearback, grandsire of Egburt and Floburt, and Official Cellarkeeper of Redwall, whose job it was to make and store all the different ales, cordials, and such.

The old hedgehog, in turn, told me that the cup in my hand had been filled from one of his best barrels of strawberry fizz, and that he was pleased to see that I had enjoyed it so much. That comment summoned another round of good-natured laughter.

* * *

Having tasted a bit of everything--although I'd kept another beakerful of strawberry fizz handy--I signaled to the Abbess, and she stood up and rang a small bell, calling for quiet.

"Thank you," she said, once she had everyone's attention. "Now, I have two important things to say. First of all, in honor of our... unusual guest, I have decided to call this the Summer of the Dark Wanderer."

Several cheers greeted her words, and I gave her a surprised half-smile. When the noise subsided, the Abbess spoke again. "Secondly, Nightshade has informed me that he is ready to answer any questions you may have. Now, I want this to be an orderly event, so there is to be no shouting over each other. Nightshade will try to answer each of you in due time. Nightshade?" She sat down, and all eyes turned to me.

"You may ask whatever you wish," I told them, standing as well. "But to be fair to everybeast, I request that each of you asks only one question at a time. Who's first?"

Several paws went up, and I chose one. "The mouse at the end. Your name, please?"

"It's Nimbalo. I'd like to know how you got your name. Isn't nightshade a poisonous berry?"

"Actually, the point behind my name was to illustrate the fact that I could blend into the shadows of the night." I chuckled lightly at the irony of it. "It was only _after_ I took the name that I learned about the berry in question."

Another paw caught my eye, and I pointed toward its owner. "The lady hedgehog."

"Floburt, sir. How'd you come to arrive at Redwall?"

"Through sheer luck. A sudden change in wind conditions made me lose control of my wings, and I crash-landed. Woke up here."

A female mouse named Alkanet wanted to know how long I'd been on my own.

"Not long. But I've never felt truly at home, even among my tribe."

An elder otter introduced herself as Filorn, and asked how many more creatures were in my tribe.

"Any creatures are welcome, if they prove themselves to be of good heart. However, since we are in the middle of a war for survival, not many are interested in joining up. Counting myself, eight remain of the eleven that have answered the call of the _Axalon_ thus far. Our only comfort is that we give as good as we get. To the best of my knowledge, a group of seven currently opposes my friends."

Right then and there, the Skipper jumped up and offered to take his entire crew to bolster the ranks of my comrades, if I would lead the way.

"Impossible, I'm afraid."

"Why?"

Well, I'd come here from a completely separate reality, and had no way of getting back, much less bringing them with me. But I wasn't going to tell him that. "I can't return until I've finished my task, my journey, my quest. I gave my oath. Among the Order of Primus--which the _Axalon_ tribe follows to the last--your oath is your honor. And to break it is the ultimate dishonor." Okay, those were separate points, but they were true, in and of themselves.

Drogg asked the next one. "What is your quest?"

"I could hide it behind words like 'justice'. But I won't. My journey is little more than one of vengeance. Bringing the vermin to justice is just icing on the cake."

"Did somebeast call for cake?"

All heads turned as Broggle entered the glow of the decorative lanterns, wheeling a trolley into the middle of the group of tables. Several stacks of fresh plates surrounded a silvery tray, which bore a magnificent five-layered circular confection. Each layer was larger than the one above, and the cake was decorated with several rows of crystallized honey-covered raspberries.

Once a space had been cleared in front of me for the gigantic dessert, the tray was carefully picked up by three creatures, and deposited softly on the table. I knew in the back of my mind that it wasn't all for me, but for a few moments, I could only stare at it, openmouthed. I think I was drooling slightly when Deyna tapped my shoulder.

Turning my head, I saw him smiling widely as he offered me a small, fine-wrought sword. The blade shimmered in the glow of the lanterns like liquid light, and the ruby pommel almost looked like it glowed with its own light.

An equally wide smile formed on my own face as I understood what he was asking of me, and I accepted the sword. Taking my time to position it perfectly over the topmost layer of the cake, I slid the blade smoothly through the center to the tray.

The two lowest layers of the cake were wide enough that the blade didn't reach all the way across. I quickly withdrew the weapon and gave the platter a one-eighty turn to finish the first cut.

Fueled by the erupting cheers, I continued the task of cutting the cake. By using the centerline as a starting reference point, and taking it one layer at a time, I was able to cut a roughly equal piece for everybody.

Broggle handed them out one by one on the plates from the trolley. I ended up getting a piece from the second layer from the top, which I enjoyed greatly.

Once everybeast had finished his or her cake, more questioning paws went up.

Foremole Gundil, thinking that maybe someone had met my quarry, asked for a name.

"I know him as Philaemos. But he's a master of disguise, and can switch between aliases at a moment's notice. He could be anyone at any time. I'm not entirely certain even of what species he is. But all the same," I said, my voice turning angry, "I must find him. I'm sworn to make him answer for his crimes."

A female squirrel named Fwirl wondered what Philaemos had done, that he deserved such venom.

"He used his skills to disrupt our order and defile the resting place of our ancestors."

That earned a shocked gasp all around. Apparently, this was not something you heard every day at Redwall.

"What's the situation on your hunt?" Abbess Mhera asked, all business.

My face fell. "In a word... hopeless," I said sadly. "I don't see how I'm going to find Philaemos anymore. He left the cave where my friends are housed almost a full day ahead of me, and he travels faster than I do."

"How much faster?" Deyna asked.

"Let me put it this way. If he'd left Redwall the moment I arrived, and kept going, he would be three days' flight away by now."

"But you've only been here for two."

"He's that much faster. And I don't know which way he went, either."

"Then stay here," Nimbalo said. "Everybeast here would make you welcome. Such is the nature of Redwall. We're like a huge family."

Several creatures confirmed this, eagerly echoing Nimbalo's invitation.

"I will stay for as long as I can," I answered, when the hubbub had subsided. "But if I find even a shadow of a ghost of a hint as to which way he went, I must follow him."

"Because of your oath?" Skipper cut in.

"That," I said, "and more."

An old mouse named Hoarg asked me why I hadn't been wearing anything when I was brought in.

Buying some time with a sheepish expression, I took a moment to figure out what to say. "With all the fighting going on, there was barely enough time for medical attention, much less tailoring. And anyway, a scrap of cloth can only take so much before repairing it becomes a lost cause. Don't ask me when, but somewhere down the line, little by little, I... I guess I just stopped caring. And I left my weapons behind."

"Why, though?" Nimbalo asked. "Didn't you need them?"

"The fact is, all we had in that war was us and our own resourcefulness. My friends needed them more than I did." The fact that the Maximals had never gotten my weapons did not need to become common knowledge.

"So you weren't wearing anything to begin with?" Filorn asked.

"Such was the consequence of battle," I responded. I caught sympathetic expressions from several of the present creatures as I said that. "But as I was fighting for survival, I was not concerned with clothing."

"Just because fate wants to walk all over you is no reason to lie down and accept it," Nimbalo said.

"You speak with the wisdom that comes from first-hand experience," I replied. "But I often find myself with no other choice. Once I had gotten a safe distance from the war zone, I'd fashioned myself a rudimentary covering of leaves. It was blown off of me when that wind pushed me out of the sky." Okay, I was lying, but I couldn't tell the truth, for obvious reasons.

"And having been knocked unconscious by the landing, there was not a thing I could do about it," I concluded. That largely settled the matter.

A goofily-dressed hare who called himself Boorab asked the question that was probably on everyone's mind. "What manner o' creature are you, anyway?"

The implications of the question hit me like a truckload of lead. I'd been expecting that one from the start, but for a long time, I didn't answer.

"To be honest, I'm not sure myself," I said finally. "Sometimes the only thing that spurs me onward is the hope that one day, I might finally understand who and what I truly am." My face turned deadly serious. "Philaemos has become the key to that knowledge."

"How do you mean?" came Floburt's voice.

"I made a deal with Philaemos's ex-commander, Vok. Vok has promised to help me learn who I am, if I can take down Philaemos. My life, in exchange for the pretender, because he went AWOL."

"That's a big bargaining chip." Deyna said. "Are you sure Vok will keep his word?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he already knows exactly what I am. In any case, he's promised me information that I want, to do something that I would've done anyway. I might as well milk it, if I can. In the meantime, all I have to keep me sane are little diversions here and there. That's actually why I joined the _Axalon_ tribe in the first place. Their war, though brutal, was a welcome distraction from the conflict within my soul."

Deyna raised his beaker in a toast. "Here's to the little diversions."

In response, Abbess Mhera raised hers as well. "To hope."

My eyes started leaking as many of the gathered creatures invoked their own additions: Honor, peace, self-discovery, the future, and freedom, to name a few.

Greatly moved by the display, I was inspired to make my own toast. "To Redwall. May it always stand as a beacon of hope in the face of adversity, and a symbol of peace for all creatures. And may the good creatures who dwell within prosper and thrive for all eternity."

A collective gulp echoed around the tables as the toast was accepted. It seemed I had won their hearts. This was good; it meant I would have allies if ever I needed them.

A yawn pierced the evening, and Perry announced that he'd had enough for the night.

Most of the youngest creatures had already nodded off, slumped against their neighbors. Abbess Mhera quietly suggested that they be put to bed. Many of the eldest beasts volunteered for the task, probably with the intention of heading for their own beds afterward.

Having eaten a bit of everything in sight, (and possibly because I was at least partially a nocturnal beast) I still had some energy left, which was just as well; when he put his paw on my shoulder, the expression on Deyna's face suggested that he wasn't entirely satisfied.

"There will be no time to speak tonight," he told me quietly. "There are too many things to do, to prepare for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" I asked, confused.

"The Nameday celebrations often go on for days," the Abbess said. "It's the biggest event of the season. And there's still more to see. The sports competitions, the shows... I've no right to force this on a guest, but I ask that you help us. We're behind schedule with setting up, and we could use a strong paw like yours."

"As long as they stay attached to my wrists, you can use both my paws," I said. "I owe you that much for helping me. Just tell me what you need me to do."

* * *

**-End Chapter Three-**


	4. Sports and Games

**-Sports and Games-**

-Nightshade's POV-

Before I was done, I almost regretted agreeing to help. But it was worth the stiff shoulder I had when I went to bed to see the happy faces the next morning, as the young ones listened to the Abbess announcing the scheduled events, and where to put your name down.

I signed up for the archery and knife-throwing competitions straight off; I needed to know how to use these weapons. A few young beasts protested when I put my name down for the wall race, though; having seen me fly, some of them were convinced that I would use my wings to cut corners.

I had never intended to use my wings in the first place, but I couldn't convince anyone else. Fwirl, who had volunteered as the starter, had the answer. Before the race began, she went inside the abbey and returned holding a length of twine and four different-colored strips of fabric; green, red, blue, and yellow. Each was neatly cut to ten inches by one inch.

"I'll tie one piece of fabric to each of the spires at the top of the corner turrets," she told everybeast. "To prove he didn't use his wings unfairly, Nightshade will have to collect all four banners on his way. All right?"

When no one objected, she scaled the wall and set to work. It wasn't long before all of the banners were flapping happily in the breeze, easily visible in the morning light.

Apart from me, four other beasts had elected to enter the wall race. My competition consisted of twin brother squirrels, a young female otter, and a male hedgehog.

Once everybeast had gotten into position above the west wallsteps, (I myself took a starting point on the parapet) Fwirl raised a paw and began the countdown.

"On your marks... ready... set... _GO!_"

The same instant she threw down her paw, I jumped from my parapet and opened my wings, rising toward the first flag. I didn't worry about how far ahead or behind the runners were; this early on, anything could happen.

When I reached the roof of the northwest tower, I planted my feet, crouched down, and released the thread holding the red banner in place. Once the flag was in my paw, I straightened my legs, catapulting myself toward the northeast turret. On my way there, I tied the cloth around the chain of my medallion, so I wouldn't lose it.

The green flag came away just as easily as the red one had. As I jumped from that roof, I risked a glance behind me to appraise the situation. The hedgehog was lagging behind, halfway along the north wall. The squirrels were neck-and-neck, a few meters behind the otter, who was slowly closing in below me.

As I collected the blue banner, the otter burst through the tower below, overtaking me. I pushed my wings harder to catch up.

I didn't bother stopping at the last turret; I simply snatched the final flag on my way past and swooped down to the walltop. I landed about fifteen feet short of the finish line... and six inches ahead of the otter.

She tried to stop, but collided into me, and the two of us tumbled down the last leg of the race together. We came to a stop in a heap of fur just beyond the finish line, me on my back, and her sitting on the skin of my wing. Her face showed concern, but no pain; she was fine.

Smiling to reassure her, I raised my head to look at Fwirl. "Guess it's a draw."

She looked back at me with an ironic smile, pointing a few feet behind her. Looking to where she indicated, I saw the yellow cloth lying on the walltop, where I'd dropped it during the tumble. Whoops.

* * *

The young otter was declared the winner, receiving a good-sized bowl of trifle as a prize. To show there were no hard feelings, I wove the four banners together into a bracelet for her.

With some time to kill before the knife-throwing contest, I decided to grab a snack. Broggle was playing servant squirrel at the buffet table; he recommended the leek and potato turnovers. While I was eating, he asked how the tunic was working for me.

"Your skill with a needle is amazing," I told him, between bites. "I've never seen such a neat job done on such a drastic alteration, and it fits perfectly."

"But it's not _completely_ perfect, is it?" he asked.

"No, it-it's fine." I didn't know how he'd known that. "What gave you _that_ idea?"

"It can't be completely perfect, because you were sleeping while I was making it. I wasn't able to ask you what you wanted. It's good enough that you're willing to overlook a small flaw here and there, because you're afraid of insulting me by bringing something so small to my attention. But you're not a hundred percent satisfied."

"How did you...?"

"Everybeast comes to me with these problems," he said smugly. "I know the difference when they're not entirely satisfied with the solution. I've learned to recognize that look that springs up behind their eyes. So go on then; what's wrong with it?"

"Well... since you're asking..." I hesitated. "Does this outfit come in black? Because black feels more like me. Shadows of the night, and all that."

"Won't be a problem. I'll have it ready for you as soon as I can."

* * *

I won the knife-throwing contest paws-down. It was just like using my missile launchers; by starting at the hip and pushing forward on the release, it was easy to make the blade hit what I wanted it to... including the apple that was falling toward the snout of a napping Floburt. Only Deyna outdid me, and that didn't count; he was the judge.

Filorn was judging the archery contest, which turned out to be a series of elimination rounds. Four rings around the bulls-eye, and each contestant--me, Deyna, Perry, and Brother Egburt--was allowed two arrows per round, fired from thirty paces. The bull's-eye was five points, the first ring was four points, and so on.

At the end of each round, the contestant with the lowest score would be removed from the competition. If two were tied in last place, the closest to the bull's-eye would advance. Our arrows had different-colored ribbons tied to the shafts to mark them for that purpose.

"You ever fired a bow before?" Perry asked me as I pulled my first arrow from the quiver at my hip.

"Not once," I answered casually, nocking the arrow onto the bowstring. "But I won't mind if I lose this one; I'm here to learn as much as anything else."

"Well, that's good," he said. "The odds have been on Deyna since he arrived here."

I said nothing, but nodded to show I wasn't ignoring him. Taking careful aim at the target, I released the string and watched the arrow fly. The head hit and stuck just outside the bulls-eye; four points.

"You sure you've never used a bow before?" Deyna asked, taking up his own. "Because when I was learning, that's what was called a good shot."

"Before today, I have never touched a bow and arrow in my life." As if to prove me right, my second shot landed in the outer half of the second ring for three points.

"Hmmm. Well, that first shot was a good one." He let his own arrow fly, and it stuck into the first circle; four points. "Not always good _enough,_ but a good shot all the same." His second shot earned him another four.

The three of us watched Perry take his turn. He had a hard time keeping the bow steady, as it had been made for larger creatures, but he managed to land his first arrow in the second ring and his second in the third ring; a total of five points. That seemed to please Deyna. I learned later that at Perry's request, the strong otter had been giving lessons to the young mouse, and that this contest was the first time Perry had held a bow without his tutor gently but consistently breathing down his neck.

Egburt's first arrow flew low and got him four points; the second flew too high, ending up in the ground behind the target. When Filorn cleared the target and returned our arrows, Egburt accepted his defeat gracefully.

In the second round, I added another eight points to my score. Deyna took seven points. Perry was eliminated with only eleven total; he shrugged it off with a dismissive, "I'm young. Give me time."

* * *

-Deyna's POV-

For the final round, Nightshade and I each had three arrows, and would take turns shooting at fifty paces.

I could see in his eyes that Nightshade wasn't going down without a fight; that was fine by me.

Without a word, he nocked his first arrow, took aim and fired; it hit right on the line between the bull's-eye and the first ring.

After careful inspection, mother ruled it a four-pointer; the center of the arrowhead had hit outside the line. Nightshade acknowledged the ruling without objection.

"I refuse to believe you've never held a bow before," I told him, launching my own arrow. "I was trained to kill for fifteen seasons, and so far, you've shot me to a standstill." My arrow thudded into the first ring.

"Fifteen?" he asked, picking up his bow. "That's quite an impressive level of focus." He launched his next arrow; it earned him three points.

"You'd better believe it." My second arrow hit the first ring as well.

"I do believe it," he said, nocking his third arrow. "And I swear on the soul of Primus that I've never held a bow and arrow before today." He fired. Bulls-eye.

"Then how is it you're at the top of your game, _and mine?_" I stepped up to the mark. "That's what I want to know."

"I guess I'm just a fast learner," he said mysteriously. I was starting to feel unnerved by his calm confidence.

I fired my arrow. It hit the four-point ring.

As soon as the final score was tallied and the ruling was made, the spectators were on their footpaws, cheering and chanting.

* * *

"_Tie-breaker! Tie-breaker! Tie-breaker!_"

With my help, mother flipped the target over on its stand. The other side of the heavy wooden circle was painted with thirty rings, each no more than an inch wide, in alternating yellow and black. An equally small red spot marked the center.

"You each have one shot," she told the two of us. "Closest arrow to the center point, as determined by ring count, will be declared the winner. In the event of a tie, each contestant will fire again. If either of you interferes with the other, he will be immediately disqualified."

"Think you can beat me?" I asked.

"If one's mind is open," Nightshade replied, "one can learn more from defeat than victory."

"Deyna, you won the toss," mother said. "Would you like to shoot first or second?"

"I'll shoot first, and set the standard."

The crowd hushed as I took my position. As Vallug had taught me, I blocked out everything except the shot. In my mind, nothing existed save the bow, the arrow, and the target.

I aligned my eye down the shaft, closed my other one, turned the arrow half a degree upward, and let my fingers relax and slip from the string.

_Sssssssssssssssss**THUNK!**_

A cheer rose up from the crowd as my arrow hit. Opening my senses to the rest of the world, I heard mother shout the result to the spectators.

"Third ring!"

Three inches from the center. The cheering doubled in volume. Mother had to actively call for quiet as Nightshade stepped up to the mark. Finally the noise subsided.

For a moment, Nightshade just stood there, tall and proud in the afternoon sun. Then he nocked his arrow, pulled back on the string, twitched ever so slightly to the left, and released.

The arrow flew down the line, swiftly closing on the target until--

_**THUNK!**_

**

* * *

**

-End Chapter Four-


	5. Aftermath

**-Aftermath-**

-Nightshade's POV-

I knew, even with the yellow ribbon on Deyna's arrow obscuring my view.

I knew, even with the cheering crowd making it difficult to hear Filorn's voice.

I knew, even before Filorn invoked the words.

"Dead... center."

She seemed shocked at such impeccable accuracy. Certainly Deyna was; for a time, he could only stare at the target. As he turned and looked back at me, he spoke one word.

"How?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," I said, putting my bow back in the cart.

"How did you hit the center at fifty paces? I've never even done that."

"You saw how I did it." I removed my quiver and put it next to the bow. "I aimed, and I fired."

"How did you learn to shoot a bow?"

"Really quickly."

Deyna sighed exasperatedly. "It's hopeless asking you anything."

"Not... if you ask the right questions." I turned away, and made to collect my prize for the contest.

Still refusing to give up, Deyna grabbed hold of my shoulder. "You're blocking every question I ask, but not to taunt me."

I turned back toward him. "You catch on pretty quick."

"You said one can learn more from defeat than victory."

"Two for two."

"There's a lesson here that you want to teach me."

"That's three."

"I admit defeat; you know your way around words better than I do. I want to learn, but I don't understand the lesson."

"The question here is manipulation of context; how wide the net can be stretched over the words being said."

I could see the wheels turning in his head as he pondered that. He slowly opened his mouth.

"If you've never used a bow before, then how could you aim it so well?"

"Ahhh. Now, that's more like it." I slowly closed my eyes, and opened them again. "My eyes see every detail, no matter how trivial."

I flared my wings, then folded them around myself like a cloak. "The strands of fur on my wings feel every shift in the wind, no matter how small. It was simply a matter of turning all of that information into the perfect shot. So I adapted my knowledge of aiming a crossbow, to the technique required to fire a regular bow." Actually, it was the use of my sonic refractor that had given me the knowledge I needed. But I wasn't going to say that.

"You swore on Primus that you've never touched a bow."

"And?"

"A crossbow is just another kind of bow."

"Aiming either one requires the same skill set, but there's a difference between a bow and a crossbow, centered on how they are loaded and fired. So I consider them to be different weapons."

"I don't."

"Well, now I know that."

"And I suppose your crossbow was one of your favorites."

That was true enough, once you took my verbal substitution into account. "Second only to my twin swords."

"So if your aim was so good, how come you didn't hit the bull's-eye every time?"

"Holding the string steady myself, instead of bracing it against a wedge, was a new concept to me. I'm used to just pulling the trigger."

"And how were you able to stay so calm, when you were up against the best from the abbey?"

"Simple. I never lost my focus."

"Neither did I."

"You kept your eyes on the prize. I kept mine on the target."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Nightshade!" Filorn called. "Your woodland berry crumble is getting cold!"

I gave Deyna a wry smile, then turned to collect the pastry.

"Okay," he said to my back. "_Now_ you're taunting me."

* * *

**-End Chapter Five-**


	6. War Story

**-War Story-**

-Nightshade's POV-

At the dinner table that evening, as Egburt was passing me a bowl of mashed potatoes, he inquired once again about the Great War.

After deliberating with the Abbess for a short while, I decided the story should be written down. With that in mind, Rosabel went inside the abbey as soon as we were done eating, and returned with a scroll, a quill pen, and an inkwell.

As soon as word got out that I was telling a story, many of the abbey beasts decided they wanted to hear it from me, instead of reading it later.

"I feel I should tell you," I said to the gathered beasts. "I'm not as good at storytelling as I could be. So don't be afraid to ask questions if you think I missed something." I stopped for a moment, to let that sink in. "Now, here goes: The story of the Great War, between the Order of Primus and the Descendants of Unicron."

"Before you start, can I ask a question?" Nimbalo asked. "Who's Unicron?"

That earned small chuckles all around.

"He was evil incarnate," I said seriously. "Though he sired no children of his own, his legacy inspired quite a few others to do greater things... by any means necessary, no matter how base, vicious, or ruthless."

That shut them up.

"Originally," I continued, "these people accomplished their individual goals through subterfuge and double-dealing, each one working on his own from the shadows. Then a Warlord-to-be named Megatron started recruiting. It was he who formally organized the Descendants of Unicron, with the sole purpose of overturning the Order of Primus, and taking over the region."

"How awful," Mhera interjected.

"That, it was," I confirmed. "One creature, who went by the name of Orion Pax, survived one of the first attacks by the Descendants of Unicron. It was Orion Pax who warned Alpha Trion, the leader of the Order of Primus at the time, that the Descendants of Unicron were going to attack Iacon, our main fortress. It was because of Orion Pax that the Order of Primus were able to turn Iacon into a refuge against Megatron."

"That was lucky," Egburt said.

"I suppose," I replied sadly. "But the Descendants of Unicron were gaining power at an alarming rate. They'd been preparing to start the Great War for a long time, and we'd had no warning, save for that of Orion Pax. By then, it was nearly too late. Within a short time, Iacon became our last refuge against a sea of Decepticons--"

"Decepticons?" Floburt asked.

Whoops. "'Descendants of Unicron' was apparently too long a name to make a good battlecry. Somewhere along the line, some of their frontline warriors must've shortened it to 'Decepticons.'"

"I'm not convinced."

"Hey, neither was I," I shrugged. "But I only know what my history teacher told me. Now where was I?"

"Iacon was your last refuge," Rosabel replied, glancing at her notes.

"Thank you. Iacon, which was by then under the command of Optimus Prime, was rapidly losing resources. There were just too many refugees, and no way to sustain them all. Optimus, unwilling to give up, gathered a crew of fifty and placed himself at the helm of a ship christened the _Ark,_ which was launched from Iacon in search of richer lands."

"I'm willing to bet it wasn't that easy," Nimbalo said.

"Not even close," I replied. "Megatron wasn't going to let the enemy commander escape. After taking Iacon, he launched his own ship--_Nemesis,_ the flagship of the Decepticon warfleet--crewed by a full tenscore of the fiercest killers in the entire Decepticon military. The _Ark_ and _Nemesis_ met in battle near an uninhabited cliffshore, during which Megatron boarded the _Ark_ with several of his own warriors. _Nemesis_ crashed into the rock and sank from sight, but the _Ark_ was pushed into a canyon by the waves, coming to rest inside of a mountain cavern."

"What happened then?" Filorn asked.

"Well, Megatron fled. No one's sure why he didn't stay and try to finish off the Order of Primus, but my theory is that something about losing seven-tenths of his troops to a miscalculation might have gotten him just a little bit spooked. He took the remnants of his fighting force and built a new base of operations elsewhere. With this new world as the battleground, the Great War went on for a long time. Optimus Prime eventually beat Megatron into submission, which led the rest of the Decepticons to retreat back across the sea. During the voyage, an ambitious but stupid Decepticon called Starscream threw the injured Megatron off their ship, taking command for himself. Any questions?"

"Yes. What became of Iacon?" Skipper asked.

"Under the leadership of Rodimus Prime, Optimus Prime's successor, the Order of Primus retook Iacon. With Megatron gone, and an idiot taking his place, the Decepticons surrendered soon after."

"How did Orion Pax survive Megatron's first attack?" Deyna asked. "And what happened to him after he warned Alpha Trion of the danger?"

"Legend has it that a great white bird known as Silverbolt led four hawks in a counterattack against Megatron's forces, driving them back until Silverbolt could carry Orion Pax to safety. But, as with many legends, there's no way of actually knowing what really happened anymore, and of course no one'd heard from Silverbolt since."

"Naturally."

"Soon after warning Alpha Trion, Orion Pax took the name--drumroll, please... Optimus Prime." I listened to the collective gasp before I continued. "You've heard the rest of his story. I don't know how he died, but his body now rests within the cavern where the _Ark_ originally ended up, alongside every last one of the warriors who were on the _Ark_ at the time, including Megatron's."

"Why do you honor Megatron's forces this way?" Drogg asked, confused.

"The mountain itself has become a great historical landmark, referred to in our archives as Mt. Primus. It's very important to us to preserve history _exactly_ as it happened. We don't want to mess anything up."

**

* * *

**

-End Chapter Six-


	7. The Secret

**-The Secret-**

-Nightshade's POV-

As the rest of the abbey creatures were heading for bed, I found myself wide awake once again. So, under Broggle's watchful eye, Deyna set me to washing dishes for tomorrow's use. After a few moments, the warrior otter came back with Abbess Mhera and offered to take over for the rotund squirrel, commenting on how tired he looked.

Broggle wasn't sure it was fitting for the Abbess of Redwall to be washing dishes, but he admitted that he was feeling the strain of all the preparations. After some gentle coaxing, he left for a much-needed nap.

I could tell he was happy we were helping, but I wasn't; I knew what was coming next.

"I feel I must ask again," Deyna told me, once the three of us were alone. "What dark secret do you harbor within you?"

"And you don't have to worry," Mhera added, picking up a plate and dishcloth. "Nothing said here tonight will ever leave this room. On my oath as the Abbess of Redwall."

"And mine, as Redwall's chosen Champion."

Selecting a pot, I sighed resignedly. Clearly, there was no more getting around it. But I still couldn't tell them all the details. "Well, you've heard the story of the Great War."

"Yes," Mhera said. "But what does that have to do with you?"

"You don't think the Descendants of Unicron would take the loss of a war lying down, do you? They surrendered only to save their own skins. And they weren't satisfied. Over time, a few small groups of Decepticons formed in secret, training fighters from an early age to conquer Iacon from within."

* * *

-Mhera's POV-

Nearly dropping the plate in my paws, I gasped in surprise as I realized where Nightshade was going with this. "You were one of those trained, weren't you?"

Nightshade nodded, setting down the pot he had been scrubbing out. "A half-crazed military failure named Galvatron tried to mold me into an assassin/spy, naming me Ravage after one of the survivors of the _Nemesis,_ but I escaped, using the skills he taught me. And at the Decagon Citadel, the heart of Iacon, I told the High Council about Galvatron. He was captured and subsequently exiled; that's when I took the name Nightshade. I was only ten."

"If it was that long ago," Deyna asked, "what makes it so difficult to speak of? How could it still be used against you?"

"Direct question, indirect answer," Nightshade replied. "The Decepticons' isolated uprisings took a turn for the worse when an ambitious lizard took Megatron's name, recruited a crew, stole a warship, and launched an attack against Mt. Primus."

"And if this Decepticon lizard, the current Megatron, knew you had been remade in Ravage's image, he'd come after you," Deyna surmised.

"He already knows. He just doesn't know I turned in Galvatron... I hope. I took that chance, returning to my previous identity of Ravage, and joining Megatron in his fight against the _Axalon_ tribe. Together, we pushed them almost to a standstill. Then I switched sides."

"You helped the _Axalon_ tribe fight off Megatron."

"I fought him off myself. Which marked the _second_ time I've betrayed the Descendants of Unicron."

"What's so important about the second time?" I asked.

"To betray the Descendants of Unicron, in their eyes, is all but unforgivable. I was lucky to survive doing so once. And Megatron is notorious for his grudges." Nightshade shuddered. "Even here and now, I'm scared, more so than I've ever been before."

"But you're not there anymore, and even if Megatron does learn what you did, he's got more important things to worry about than old grudges."

"Nonetheless, my secret must remain secret if I'm to survive," Nightshade said. "The only reason I speak of it now is because I trust you to keep your oath of silence."

"There's something I don't understand," Deyna said. "If you knew the danger, then why join Megatron in the first place?"

"For a long time after I turned in Galvatron, I wondered what might have happened if I hadn't. I'd made the right choice for the good of all; I knew that." Tears started forming in Nightshade's eyes. "But I was curious: Had it been the right choice for me?"

"And joining with Megatron, however dangerous, was a chance to find out."

Nightshade nodded, the tears flowing freely now. "Under the half-truth of searching for something that could tell me what my life had been like before Galvatron interfered, I shattered my own code of honor, lashing out against any who angered me, with no regard for life, law or consequence."

More tears. "You need to understand, I'm not proud of it. But I truly lived up to the name Ravage, and Primus help me, I enjoyed it. Every time I swung a blade, every shot I fired, every minute of battle, I lived for it all. Who knows how far it might have taken me, how far I might have gone? It was the worst thing I'd ever done... And the most fun I'd ever had..."

Seemingly unable to speak further, he dropped to one knee, hunching his back and concealing himself under his wings as he sobbed and shuddered.

At this point, I could only guess what was going through Nightshade's mind, but I was determined to hear him out. Going to pieces like that, he looked truly pitiful, and it was painfully obvious that this poor creature needed a friendly ear.

"You don't need to hide your tears from us," I said, kneeling near him and placing a comforting paw on his wing, where it covered his shoulder. "You cry because you have a noble heart."

"The world may look black-and-white to you," Nightshade said, between sobs, "but there are shades of gray out there, and I'm their avatar."

Even though Nightshade didn't speak again for a good ten minutes after that, I knew he had another story to tell. I was prepared to wait for as long as it took. And one glance at my younger brother's face told me Deyna was thinking the same thing.

* * *

-Nightshade's POV-

"To this day, I've never killed anyone before," I said finally, still under my wings. "But for one moment, I was ready to do so. The _Axalon_ tribe leader was at my mercy, and I might have finished it. For no reason at all."

I pushed my wing gently against Mhera's paw, and we stood up again. The tears still shone on my face, though no more came forward. "But he never flinched, even when I prepared for the final blow. He simply said, 'You still have a choice.' Then he just closed his eyes and... waited."

"He was gambling on the theory that you had a spark of goodness inside you," Deyna said.

"And if that failed, he was prepared to die." I wiped the tears away from my face. "His courage inspired me. And that's when I turned on Megatron. I could've slain the lizard, so great was my fury."

"You didn't, though," Mhera said. "You just said you've never killed before."

"I was about to. But I knew that I was angry with myself, that it wasn't about him. He was just something else to lash out at. And finishing him would only have destroyed what little was left of my honor." A look of hardened resolve crossed my features. "Honor that I have been striving to regain every day since."

"Even to the point of leaving to chase down Philaemos alone," Deyna said quietly. "But you don't have to feel alone anymore."

"Really?" I was skeptical, at best, that these two could ease my sense of isolation.

"Permit me to reintroduce myself. Deyna, son of Rillflag. Formerly Tagg, the Taggerung of the Juskarath clan." The otter warrior smiled. "Our Recorder, Rosabel, has that story written down. If you care to read it, I think you'll find that we are the same. Like you, I had been trained to kill. Like you, I broke away. And like you, I spent a lot of time looking over my shoulder afterward."

"You don't understand my position," I insisted. "I don't actually know whether I'm good or evil. I've jumped between the two multiple times, and the answer should be obvious. But my heart is still divided. Bringing in Philaemos is my last shot; if Vok doesn't keep his word, and tell me who I was, then I may never know who I am."

"If you're looking to your past for answers, then it seems obvious to me," Deyna replied. "You turned in one of the leaders of an underground evil. You wouldn't kill a helpless creature, nor did you slay your foe in anger. And now you're trying to bring another evil to justice. These might just be small potatoes compared to some of the things you've heard about, but that doesn't make you any less noble."

"I'm not sure if I can be the knight in shining armor you make me sound like."

"You don't have to be," Mhera said gently. "As long as you can perform acts of kindness and mercy, there's hope for you. Just believe in yourself."

"And stop acting like your conscience only serves to confuse you," Deyna added. "In your search for your own true path, you won't find a better compass."

Okay, maybe they could help a bit. In any case, I could see that they weren't going to give up on me. I suppose if I hadn't taken it for granted that I'd been taking the people around me for granted, I'd have known that already. On the other hand, if I hadn't taken the people around me for granted, I might not have had this lone-wolf complex in the first place.

I returned my attention to the pot I had been working on, and made a half-hearted attempt to finish cleaning it.

"We've got it covered down here," Mhera told me, as though sensing what was passing through my mind. "You can go ahead."

"You sure?" I asked.

"After a cathartic revelation," Deyna replied, smiling, "I often find a moment's meditation helps me straighten out my thoughts."

"Thanks, guys."

* * *

With the Matrix of Leadership floating in front of me, guiding me forward, I walked down a pitch-black corridor, along a path of silver light.

Beyond the Matrix, I could see a broad white platform, which seemed to be projecting the path for me to follow. As I stepped onto the dais, two ivory pillars rose up in front of me, branching out and interweaving with each other to become a lifelike statue of Optimus Prime. His arms were outstretched, his hands reaching for the Matrix, forming a socket for the gem.

The Matrix broke free from its case, floated forward and fit itself into Prime's hands. Once it had come to rest, the stone started glowing and projected an image of a mouse wearing impressive battle armor. He carried the same sword that I had used to cut Broggle's gigantic cake.

This, he pointed at me, and spoke with a calm but confident voice of compassionate authority. The kind of voice I'd always imagined Primus having.

_"Dark wanderer, turned from Dark Forest gates,  
__Who is now pursuing the one he hates.  
__The blade of wrath will help soothe your ire.  
__Seek your path in the mountain of fire."_

* * *

**-End Chapter Seven-**


	8. Preparation

**-Preparation-**

-Nightshade's POV-

At breakfast the next morning, Broggle informed me that the black outfit he'd promised me would be done by dawn the next day. I thanked him for the effort and the report.

Rosabel approached/intercepted me after breakfast, and asked if I was ready to tell my story.

"I told my story at the Nameday Feast," I replied.

"The basic facts, yes," she conceded. "But it's so vague and jumbled up that I can't make sense of it. I need details, I need context, and I need you to start at the beginning."

For a moment, I considered refusing altogether, but... "Do you have somewhere we can talk alone?"

* * *

-Rosabel's POV-

Ten minutes later, I was taking a seat at my desk, and Nightshade was looking very uncomfortable as he pulled up a stool. I wasn't sure why, until I remembered his claim last night about not being much of a storyteller.

"There's no need to rush through this," I told him gently. "Take as much time as you need. If there's anything you can't speak of, for whatever reason, just say so and we'll skip it. All right?"

That seemed to relax him. "All right. What do you want to know?"

"First: You said the _Axalon_ tribe follows the Order of Primus to the last. What is the _Axalon_ tribe to the Order of Primus? How are they connected?"

"Well, that ties into my story last night, about the Great War. The _Axalon_ tribe is a separate colony from the Order of Primus, but the creatures of the _Axalon_ tribe are descended from those who were on the _Ark,_ and have made their home in the caverns of Mt. Primus."

"Okay." I took a moment to finish writing that down, then glanced through my notes of the questionnaire dinner, which I'd written from memory afterward. "So which of the two are you from?"

"Both, I suppose," he said. "I was raised as an orphan among the Order of Primus, but when an ambitious lizard took Megatron's name and launched an attack on Mt. Primus, I was sent to help the _Axalon_ tribe defend their home."

He sounded like he was hiding something, but I didn't ask what; it was probably his annoyance at not knowing where he was originally from, and I didn't want to alienate him by reinforcing that.

"When did that turn into a war for survival? The current Megatron has only seven underlings, you said?" I asked, taking another look at my notes. "No, six. So if Mt. Primus is so important to the Order of Primus, why not send more soldiers to help there?"

"I don't pretend to know what goes through the heads of the High Council," he replied. "It might have something to do with the fact that the Descendants of Unicron are still a persistent threat to Iacon, but I could be wrong."

I took a quick look at my notes from last night. "You said they surrendered."

"They did. That doesn't make us happy-go-lucky friends. It's a cold war, is what it is. The Descendants of Unicron aren't mounting direct attacks against the Order of Primus anymore, but they still could, and probably would at any opportunity, and both sides know it."

"Okay..." I hadn't thought of that. "Moving along. Where exactly is Mt. Primus located?"

"A very long way from here," he said quietly. "I can't tell you more than that."

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't know the secret was--"

"Nothing so dramatic," he cut in. "I'm just not entirely certain of which way it is. My route from there to here wasn't what you'd call direct."

He took a moment to think about it, and then, presumably, gave up. "If I had to guess, I'd say east by northeast, but don't hold me to it."

"Okay. So how did you get here?"

"That's thanks to Philaemos," he replied. "Having broken away from his own people, he just happened to wander by Mt. Primus. Seeing a potential target, he used his mastery of disguises to sow discontent among the _Axalon_ tribe. After being unmasked by his ex-commander, Vok, he fled. And I was chosen to pick up the trail."

"Why didn't Vok continue the chase?"

"Such is the burden of leadership; Vok had other responsibilities to return to. So once we had performed the Rite of Honor's Avatar, I pursued Philaemos by air to this vicinity."

"Can you describe the 'Rite of Honor's Avatar'?"

"Well, I don't know the ritual; not step by step. What it boils down to, though, is that when one creature has a score to settle, and can't, another is selected as Avatar of Honor, to do the job for him."

"And you're Vok's Avatar of Honor?"

"Not just Vok's," he replied. "I'm Honor's Avatar to the entire _Axalon_ tribe."

"I can see why you're so desperate to find Philaemos, then."

He nodded. "When that wind knocked me out of the sky, the last thought to cross my mind before I fell unconscious was that I had failed. Then last night, I had this weird dream."

* * *

-Nightshade's POV-

I spent the next five minutes telling Rosabel of my dream, hoping to gain some insight as to its meaning.

Naturally, she'd wanted to know what the Matrix of Leadership was. I told her truthfully that it was a sapphire about the size of my head, that it was the holy treasure of the Order of Primus, and that it was said to contain the soul of Primus himself.

The young squirrel, in turn, did not disappoint me. As soon as I mentioned the mouse in armor, she gave me the basic rundown on Martin the Warrior, co-founder and guardian spirit of Redwall.

"And every now and again, if somebeast of Redwall needs help, he appears in dreams to deliver a hint, clue, or riddle," she concluded.

"I suspected the Matrix was telling me I could trust that mouse," I replied.

"Do you remember his exact words? Because Martin's hints usually make more sense when they're repeated exactly as they were said."

I repeated Martin's message word for word, and she took it down in kind.

"I don't know what he meant by 'turned from Dark Forest gates,'" she said, after thinking about it for a moment. "It's probably a metaphor for something else. After all, death is pretty final."

If she only knew.

"Three simple words, Rosabel," I told her. "War for survival. I've faced death more times than I care to remember, in more forms than I can count. And yet, here I am, alive and kicking."

"I guess that makes sense," she said, taking an old book from a shelf. "Anyway, 'mountain of fire' is obvious. Martin was referring to Salamandastron, the fortress of the Long Patrol hares. It's currently ruled by the Badger Lord, Russano the Wise."

"Is it far away?"

"I don't know." She started rifling through the pages of her book. "But Martin made the journey, so there must be something written about it somewhere around here." She closed the book and pulled another one from the same shelf.

"Can I help?"

"As long as you're careful with them," she said, handing me a few scrolls. "I don't want them damaged or mixed up."

"Got it."

Between us, we went through six or seven volumes without success. Then I opened another scroll.

"I found a map. It looks small scale, but it's something."

Rosabel left her book on the desk and stepped closer. "Well spotted. May I?"

I handed over the map and waited for her to appraise the worth of the discovery.

"Hmmm... Okay, this is Redwall," she said, pointing at the map. "And on the coastline here, that's Salamandastron. Once you get past these mountains here, it should be smooth sailing. I'll make a copy for you; it shouldn't take more than a half-hour."

"What about the 'blade of wrath'?" I asked. "Can I find something like that here?"

"It sounds familiar, but I'm not sure from where. You might try asking Deyna; as the former Taggerung, maybe he knows something."

"Thanks."

* * *

"Leaving again, huh?" Broggle asked.

"I'm honor-bound to follow Philaemos," I answered, stepping toward him from the kitchen entrance. "Now that I have a clue as to where I might find him, I have to go. I came by to request a pack of food for the journey, because I was never much of a forager."

"Well, I'll see what I can do for you," Broggle replied, setting to work. "But I've got two questions."

"I'm an open book."

"Exactly where did your clue come from, and where are you going?"

"In my dreams last night, Martin told me to head for Salamandastron. To 'seek your path', he said."

"I never thought Martin would advocate revenge."

"Maybe Martin has an idea of what it feels like to be me," I replied. "In any case, it was the Matrix of Leadership, the holy treasure of my people, that led me to Martin. Who am I to question the will of Primus, especially while his symbol hangs from a chain around my neck?"

"You make a good point," Broggle said. "But with your black tunic also occupying my mind, it's going to take some time to get everything together down here."

"I'm in no hurry. Not yet, anyway."

"All the same, I suggest that in the meantime, you prepare yourself for the journey. If you can't find food, then you should at least find somebeast who can, or you won't get very far."

* * *

For some reason, I found myself drawn to Great Hall, to the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. It truly was a fine piece of work, and did great justice to the spirit.

I was still contemplating the images when I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I saw Abbess Mhera approaching.

"I've heard tell you're leaving soon, under direction from Martin," she said. "Is this so?"

"It is," I replied. "I'm heading for Salamandastron, and I was looking for information before I left. Rosabel suggested that I talk to Deyna. Is he about?"

"He's out collecting herbs with Egburt and Floburt, to refresh their medical cabinet. They aren't due to return for another hour. Is it anything I can help with?"

"Well, since you're offering, how much do you know about the blade of wrath?"

Mhera took a moment to consider the question, the shook her head. "I don't think I've heard of it. But I'll tell Deyna you asked, if I see him before you do."

I inclined my head toward her. "My thanks, Abbess."

She made to leave, but I called her back with an afterthought as she reached the corridor.

"There's something else I could use your help with, if you wouldn't mind."

* * *

Half an hour later, the Skipper found me in Rosabel's study, collecting my map. Rosabel had enlarged the area between Redwall and Salamandastron from the existing copy onto another scroll for me.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said. "The Abbess said you were going to Salamandastron, and you could use some help on the road. Something about finding food."

I thanked Rosabel again for her help, then turned to the Skipper, walking with him back toward Cavern Hole for lunch. "That's correct. I'm not very good at foraging myself, and I will require a companion to assist me in that respect. And that, it seems, is to be you."

"So when do we leave?"

"As soon as everything's arranged, I'll let you know."

**

* * *

**

-End Chapter Eight-


	9. Departure

To Bookworm101: Given that you've asked the same question three times, I think I can safely assume you want an answer. However, answering the question in question would spoil part of the storyline, so I'm afraid you'll just have to wait and see.

To all others, I reiterate: If you want answers to your questions, leave a signed review, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

* * *

**-Departure-**

-Nightshade's POV-

Once I'd confirmed it to the Abbess, it wasn't long before everybeast knew that I was leaving, and why. I passed by Deyna later that afternoon, and he told me in passing that he was working on it.

When I awoke the next morning, I discovered that Broggle had kept his word; a black replica of my outfit was waiting for me on my bedside table. The squirrel had hit the nail on the head; this one fit just as well as the last, and the lusterless color blended perfectly with my fur to complement my particular talents.

After breakfast, Broggle, Fwirl, and Deyna met Skipper and I at the main gate. Skipper carried a quiver of short javelins on his back, and a solid-looking atlatl hung from his belt.

"There's enough there for two days, if you're careful with it," Broggle said, handing us each a bag of food and a large canteen of water.

"Thanks," Skipper said.

"I don't know if I'll be able to carry all of this in flight," I said, as I shouldered the packs.

"If you were flying, _I'd_ never be able to keep up," Skipper pointed out.

"Assuming the wind was at my back, you're right," I conceded. "But if yesterday was any indication, then I'll _need_ to fly to keep cool."

"You might try spreading this over your wings," Fwirl said, handing me a bedroll of pale leaf-green. "It can give you some shade."

Broggle and Fwirl stepped back, and Deyna came forward.

"It took me half the evening to remember it," he said, gently grabbing my wrist, "and the other half to remember what I'd done with it." With that, he pressed a leather belt wrapped around a sheathed knife into my paw.

Unsheathing the weapon, I took a moment to examine it. Like the sword of Martin, this knife was lethally beautiful. The straight-edged blade was razor-sharp, and a brilliant sapphire was set in the amber handle.

"You've already proven that you're good with throwing knives, and this one'll serve you well," Deyna told me. "Many seasons ago, this blade belonged to the Juska ferret who raised me. His name was Sawney Rath."

"The blade of Rath." I smiled, putting the knife away. "Thank you. You don't know what this means to me."

"I think I might have an idea, Nightshade," Deyna replied, as I wrapped the belt around my waist. The sheathed knife came to rest at my back, in easy reach. "Good luck finding Philaemos."

"I'll see you when I get back," I said.

The huge door closed, and the Skipper and I stepped out from under the morning shadow of the great fortress. We were on our way.

* * *

"I read your story yesterday, after I spoke to you about this trip," Skipper told me, as we sat down next to each other for lunch. "And I think you missed a few details."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. What are the creatures like at Mt. Primus?" he asked. "Are there any others like you?"

"No two are alike among the _Axalon_ tribe," I replied, pulling an oatcake from my bag. "But me and Cheetor come pretty close, at least as far as mindset goes. Silverbolt's the one I admired most, though. He always knew what he was doing, and did it with a style all his own."

"'Silverbolt'?" Skipper echoed, digging through his own bag. "Not the same great bird of legend?"

"Nah, just took his name," I said, between bites. "But he lives up to the name well, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a more cultured soul."

"What kind of a beast is the current Silverbolt?"

"Not sure. Never seen one like him before. But I swear, the way he flies through battle, he must be half-eagle."

"Does anyone else among the _Axalon_ tribe share a name with a legendary hero of the past?"

"Our leader, Optimus Primal. Physically, he's the strongest of us, but he rules with wisdom as well. Much like Optimus Prime did in his day."

"And while we're on the subject of names, what about you? I know you took the name 'Nightshade' for the shadows, and didn't know about the poison at the time." He paused, as if afraid his next words might offend. "But if you could take any name you wanted, why didn't you change your name after you learned about the berry?"

"Never crossed my mind." I finished my oatcake and washed it down with a swig of water. "I was too busy trying to figure out who I had been before."

Without the aid of wind, the long grass rustled quietly about fifteen feet behind me.

"But I'll consider it, if I ever return to Iacon." I casually corked my canteen and set it on the ground, then turned and sprang up, drawing Sawney Rath's knife from its sheath.

A mean-looking rat with an old, rusty sabre had been trying to approach unseen. Realizing that his attempt had failed, he pounced on me.

Falling under the extra weight, I tried to bring my knife forward while holding his sword back.

Then something solid whipped through the air and hit the back of the rat's head. He collapsed on top of me, unconscious, and I shoved him away. "Thanks."

"No problem," Skipper replied, putting his atlatl back on his belt.

Sheathing my knife, I picked up the rat's blade and--with some effort--snapped it in two, throwing the pieces in opposite directions.

The rat came to as I was shouldering my pack.

I glared at him.

He glared at me.

I flared my wings, showed my claws, and growled loudly.

He turned tail, ran for his life, and didn't look back.

Once he was gone, me and the Skipper looked at each other for a moment, then started laughing at the same time.

"Too big for his fur," Skipper chuckled. "Poor idiot doesn't know his limits."

"Bet he reestablishes them really quickly," I replied.

"I never knew anything was amiss until you jumped up. You have good ears."

"And you've got a good arm." I smiled. "We make a good team."

* * *

"Before we were interrupted, I was asking about your friends," Skipper said, as we walked side-by-side ten minutes later. "Optimus is wise and strong, and Silverbolt is refined but fierce in combat. I got that. You also mentioned someone called 'Cheetor.' What's he like?"

"He's the youngest of all of us. And while he's eager to prove himself, he's got more courage than sense, just like I did at that age." I looked to the sky. "If he wasn't needed so badly at Mt. Primus, I might have brought him with me. He's like a little brother to me."

"What of the rest?"

"Well, let's see. Depthcharge, by nature, prefers his own company, and he has a lot of issues, but he's the only one among us who can effectively fight underwater."

"I assume that's how he got his name?" Skipper asked.

"That's correct. And that's about all I know about him."

"Any females?"

"One. Blackarachnia was trained among the Descendants of Unicron, in the image of the black widow spider. When Megatron betrayed her, she sided with us. Her knowledge of poisons has aided us well in curing diseases when they spring up. Rattrap's still wary of her, but Optimus trusts her. That's enough for the rest of us."

"Who's Rattrap?"

"Blunt, bellicose, and a pain in the tail, even for a rat. But he's our best forager and a vital member of the team. And he's proven his loyalty dozens of times over."

"He's not evil?"

I shook my head. "Just unpleasant. Pretty much the opposite of Rhinox, who prefers to watch from the sidelines rather than get involved in a battle. Rhinox is generally mild-tempered and difficult to anger. He's our medical officer, and his ingenuity is unparalleled among the _Axalon_ tribe. When he does get angry, though, it's best to stay out of the way. Aside from Optimus, he has the most brute strength of all of us, and he's not shy about using it. And that's all eight."

Skipper counted off on his fingers. "Rhinox, Rattrap, Blackarachnia, Depthcharge, Cheetor, Optimus, Silverbolt, and... who was the eighth?"

"Me."

"Ah."

* * *

**-End Chapter Nine-**


	10. First Night Out

**-First Night Out-**

-Skipper's POV-

After that, we trekked on in silence for most of the afternoon. Nightshade would occasionally make some comment about some plant or another he hadn't seen before, but none of it really stuck in my mind; despite his mild persistence, Nightshade seemed to know that I wasn't all that interested.

As the sun sank below the mountains just ahead of us, we set up camp for the night, beneath a stout tree near a river bend. We ate our dinner in relative silence, listening to the sounds of the evening, before packing the food back up.

Knowing that there could be other creatures about who might attack, I suggested posting a watch.

"How do we decide who takes first shift?" Nightshade asked. "And how long should the shifts be?"

It was as if he'd never had to post a watch before. But I didn't push the issue. "Hour-long shifts usually work best," I said. "And I think you should take second watch. If you've been trained for the night, as your name suggests, your eyes are better in full dark than mine are."

"Very well then." Without another word, Nightshade opened his bedroll, folded it over himself, and was soon snoozing happily away, lost in his dreams.

My watch went by slowly, without event. At the end of my shift, I woke Nightshade up for his and took my place beneath the stars, drifting slowly into slumber.

* * *

I awoke to a horrible screeching sound, from where I could not say. I sprang up with a javelin in each hand, taking in the sight of the disturbance.

Three rats were swiftly running away from our camp, while the one who had tried to attack us earlier was standing his ground. He was the largest among them, and probably their leader; he had another, equally rusty sword in his hand, while a smaller rat was without a weapon at all.

A second screech rent the night, and the large rat finally turned and ran. Turning toward the source of the noise, I heard rather than saw a black shadow detach itself from the branches of the tree and pin the rat leader to the ground.

It was Nightshade.

* * *

-Nightshade's POV-

"The other three won't stay scared for long," I said, struggling with the rodent. He looked undernourished, but he was still putting up a good fight. "With their boss in trouble, one will take advantage of the situation."

"Not from where I'm standing." I heard Skipper launch three quick shots, each one hitting one of the other rats. They fell, slain by the javelins.

Exhausted, the large rat reluctantly yielded beneath me, and allowed himself to be disarmed.

I lifted myself off of him and dragged him to his feet, putting an angry growl into my voice. "Why did you attack us?"

"I meant no harm--"

"The harm's been done," Skipper cut in, tickling the rat's throat with the point of another javelin. "Why?"

He gulped visibly. "I've not eaten since yesterday, sir."

"You could have asked for something to eat, instead of trying to sneak in and take it."

"I am so hungry, the sight of food drove me into madness. I had to have it."

Skipper put away his javelin and looked at me. "By rights, Nightshade, he's your prisoner. What do you want to do with him?"

"I let him go once, and he returned with reinforcements." I released my grip on him and drew my knife. "To be certain he doesn't try anything else, I should probably just kill him."

Too weak to run, the rat collapsed to all fours in front of me and began blubbering for his life. "Please, kind sir, spare me; I'll never raise a hand against you again, just grant me mercy, I-I-I beg of you--"

"Get up and shut up!" I made to kick him, and he shrank back, still whimpering. "The best mercy for both of us would be to put you out of your misery right now. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a groveling idiot."

Skipper hauled the rat back up by the nape of his neck.

"If you'd come forward openly, I'd have given you what you needed," I told him. "But you chose to try and take it by force. So now you're going to have to earn it."

"What must I do?" he replied.

"Remove the javelins from your friends, and clean them off."

"Yes, sir."

I pointed my knife at him. "Try to use one against us, and this blade is going straight into your neck."

Skipper released the rodent, and he set about his task quickly, using pieces of cloth torn from his own ragged shirt to wipe the blood off the sharpened points.

Once he had handed the cleaned javelins (blunt end first, if you please) to the Skipper, I sheathed my knife and dug a honey-baked scone from my bag, thrusting it at the rat. "Take it and go. Next time I see your face, I won't bother asking questions. Do you understand?"

He nodded and grabbed the scone quickly, as though afraid I might change my mind.

"You've got five minutes to get out of my sight," I said coldly. "Make use of them."

"Th-th-th-thank you, sir--"

"_**GO!**_"

He went.

* * *

-Skipper's POV-

As soon as he was out of sight, I turned to Nightshade. "Did you really have to act so cold?"

"I know his type," he replied. "Give them what they want without resistance, and their demands only increase. You have to make them work for what they get, so that they know you're serious."

"Where did you learn that?"

"Tonight's not the first time I've had to resort to aggressive remonstrance." His voice hardened, tinged with regret. "Seasons of being a double agent for the Order of Primus have revealed many creatures to me, creatures exactly like him. In a society of backstabbers like the Decepticons, the only way a leader can keep their position is to be certain that their underlings _never_ forget who's boss."

* * *

­-Philaemos's POV-

I nibbled at the scone as I ran south, away from Nightshade and his otter companion.

Nightshade's cybernetic form had been lost in the quantum surge; I knew it as soon as I had approached him in the open light. This fit well with the intentions of Lord Cretrades, as well as my own.

My plan tonight was brilliantly simple: Construct three minions to attack Nightshade's camp in the night, while he was watching out for the otter. Standing my ground while my golems ran when he screeched the first time told him that I was the boss of them; only the vermin leader would hesitate before turning tail, because he'd need to save face if at all possible.

For a few seconds, I had been annoyed that Nightshade had set me such a menial task, but it had given me the time I needed to fuse my golems' molecules, so that they wouldn't disintegrate and give the game away as soon as I released my hold on them.

And my present purpose had been fulfilled. My deliberately ill-planned attacks had given me a greater measure of Nightshade's current strength. I now knew what to face him as. So all that now remained was to prepare for the confrontation.

**

* * *

**

-End Chapter Ten-


	11. Salamandastron

**-Salamandastron-**

-Nightshade's POV-

Not much happened after the rat had been defeated.

The river, which we'd camped near that first night, led through a gap in the mountain range. We made good time on our second day, and set up camp that night a short distance away from the river's northern bank.

Lunch that day had been the last of our food supplies from Redwall, but the Skipper made an excellent dinner for us of shrimp and watercress soup, (thankfully) without the hotroot.

It was on the morning of the third day that I got my first good look at Salamandastron. It was huge, to say the least. An imposing presence radiated outward from the mountain like an aura. I had never felt anything like it before.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

The Skipper stood beside me, apparently amused at the look on my face.

"It is that," I answered, still staring at the fortress. I could not help but be awed at it, standing tall and strong through time and weather, provided by nature as a place from whence the shore would be defended against pirates and other invaders.

"Let's go say hello," Skipper replied, starting forward again.

* * *

-Skipper's POV-

As we drew closer to Salamandastron, Nightshade tapped my shoulder.

I turned my head toward him, and was about to ask what he wanted, but the look in his eyes screamed at me that I should keep quiet. So I did.

Something must have sounded suspicious to him, because he put a finger across his mouth, discreetly pointed past me and mouthed the words, "You keep going."

I nodded and continued on as if nothing was wrong, watching out of the corner of my eye as Nightshade silently took flight, landing in a shallow crevice near the base of the mountain to the north.

A few moments later, I heard the sound that had tipped him off: the swift footfalls of somebeast running. The sound was coming closer, from the left.

I turned toward the source, tensing my hand for battle...

And breathed a quiet sigh of relief when I realized who it was. The fighting hare's mottled brown fur was unmistakable, as was the broadsword sheathed across his back.

"Greetings, Arcturus. On another patrol?"

"Hello, Skipper," Major Arcturus replied. "You might say that. But it's not just a routine patrol. Lord Russano sent me out to look for somebeast who was on their way here."

"Who?"

"Lord Russano didn't say who or what this creature was, or why he wanted him brought in, only that I'd know him when I saw him."

My thoughts flashed to Nightshade, hiding at the mountain's base and probably hearing every word even from there.

"Have you seen anybeast like that?" Arcturus asked. "It could be you Lord Russano was referring to, now that I think about it, but somehow I don't think it is."

I decided to keep my mouth shut until I knew more.

"You're the only creature I've seen today who could be so easily recognized," I said.

The hare sighed. "Crumbs. Well, if you do see something, would you let me know?"

"You'll be the first."

There was a sharp whistling sound, while at the same time a shadow ran across the ground between us, and Deyna's knife landed in the dirt, with the blade stuck between the hare's footpaws. Arcturus looked at it, then at the sky.

I followed his gaze just in time to see Nightshade touch down a few yards away. Arcturus made to reach for his sword, but I put an arm in front of him.

"Hold on a minute," I said. "Nightshade's a friend."

"A friend?" Arcturus asked incredulously.

"He's been a guest of Redwall for almost a week now, since the morning Deyna and I found him injured."

"I imagine I'm also the creature you were sent to bring in, Major," Nightshade added.

The hare reeled slightly. "You heard that?"

"I heard everything." Nightshade replied, flicking his ears for emphasis. "There is little I do not hear, especially when I'm focused on it."

"Why were you listening in?"

"I had to be certain you were not a threat."

The Major bristled up. "Who says I'm not?"

Nightshade's face shifted into a look of concern. "Would you still assume I'm an enemy, even after I relinquished my weapon?"

"Relinquished? Is that what you were doing?" Arcturus calmed himself and retrieved the blade. "Because I didn't even know anybeast was there until this knife appeared, point-down, right in front of me. What would you have thought?"

Nightshade considered it. "Yes... I see how you would come to that conclusion. My apologies. But I myself have never been in the situation you describe."

"Never?" I asked.

The Major scoffed. "Impossible."

"I do not mean to sound arrogant," Nightshade countered, "but if there's sneaking to be done, you can bet I'm the one to do it."

"That sounds pretty arrogant to me."

"Here are the facts, then," Nightshade explained. "Only two creatures have ever taken me by surprise, and only once each. Neither case involved the use of a weapon, and in both cases, I was less than six seasons old. Since then, I've yet to meet any other beast who can sneak up on me at all."

"You're that good?" Arcturus asked.

"It depends on your frame of reference," Nightshade replied, smirking. "Would you accept my answer as a conclusion? Or is the question itself a challenge in disguise?"

"Don't answer that," I stepped in. "Deyna warned me about trying to talk to this guy; that look on his face means he's found some way to make a joke of the conversation. If you give him any kind of response, it won't matter what kind it is. He'll turn it on its head just to get a laugh."

Nightshade turned to me with a mock-pouty face. "Ohhh, Skipper," he whined jokingly, "you spoiled the surprise."

I couldn't stop myself from chuckling at Arcturus's dumbfounded expression. "See what I mean?"

* * *

-Arcturus's POV-

After that little bit of humor, I found it easier to trust the strange newcomer. Yes, I had originally thought him an enemy, but he didn't even ask for his knife back. So I decided I should bring him to Lord Russano before I jumped to conclusions.

If Nightshade was on the level, I would return the blade later. If not, there wasn't much he could do unarmed against seven hundred fighting hares and a Badger Lord.

It was about half an hour before dinner that we made it to Salamandastron. Skipper thought it wise for Nightshade to remain out of sight until we had prepared Lord Russano for him.

* * *

-Russano's POV-

Major Arcturus entered the mess hall just in time, taking a place across the table from mine with seconds to spare before a chef's aide with a food trolley passed by.

"Any luck?" I asked, as he selected a large fruit salad and two vegetable turnovers for himself.

"I think I found him," he said, as the Skipper entered.

"Hello, Skipper," I called out. "Please, have a seat. There's plenty for all."

Smiling jovially, Skipper strode forward to take an empty seat near mine.

"What of the other one?" I asked them both. "Is he around?"

"Black fur, large ears, and allegedly sneakier than a leveret with a fresh pie?" Arcturus asked.

"Well, the fur and ears match," I said. "I don't know about sneaky, though."

"He's outside." The hare carefully set a beautiful throwing knife onto the table. "He surrendered his blade to me (albeit dramatically) as a sign of peace, and he's waiting for us now."

"I left the rest of our supplies with him, though," Skipper added. "He's got food."

"It is imperative I meet him," I told them, picking up the knife and sticking it into my belt.

"With respect, sir, he has a very good reason to be shy," Skipper said.

Arcturus nodded. "There's no telling what could happen if everybody met him at once. We thought it better that you be brought to him, rather than bringing him in for dinner."

* * *

-Nightshade's POV-

I easily caught the normally-stern voice of Major Arcturus taking on a cautious tone as he finished his introduction of me: "I don't think he'll hurt anyone; he's a guest of Redwall, after all. But he's not like anything I've seen, so you should probably brace yourself." I knew then that this was going to be rough on all involved.

When Skipper signaled me, I walked toward the front gate. I tried to act casual, with my wings closed over my shoulders, but I could feel myself becoming tense as I drew closer. I couldn't help it; benign as I intended to act, if somebeast panicked over my physical appearance, I would likely have to fight my way free.

One of the sentries quickly averted his eyes as I approached, as though afraid I'd catch him staring. The other smiled and welcomed me inside, but I could see the fear behind her eyes, and hear it under her voice, and I knew that she'd happily have hidden herself if she wasn't on duty.

As I stepped through the entrance tunnel, my tension grew. Since gaining my wings, I had always been able to see the sky, even on Cybertron. Now that I couldn't, something in the back of my mind was saying, _You can still escape. Move, before it's too late._

Nonetheless, I pressed onward.

**

* * *

**

-End Chapter Eleven-


	12. The Message

To bookworm101: It's not so simple. The mole dialect was easy to replicate because it was so clearly different. For hares and otters, the difference is much more subtle, so it's that much harder to pick up on. Still, I'll give it a shot.

* * *

**-The Message-**

-Russano's POV-

The creature that was brought before me looked even more fearsome in person than the picture I had carved of him into the walls of the prophecy chamber, but the way he carried himself spoke volumes towards his peaceful intentions.

Thanks to Martin the Warrior entering my dreams as well, I knew already why Nightshade was here, and we didn't beat around the bush. But even after an hour of talking about it, I had no idea what he hoped to find here that would lead him to his enemy. Nor, for that matter, did he.

"Let us hope, then, that your journey was not in vain," I told him finally.

"The creatures of Redwall place great faith in Martin," Nightshade replied, "and for very good reason, if what I've heard about him is true. If you permit me to remain here for a time, I imagine something will turn up." He let out a soft yawn as his closed wings gave a sort of half-flap, seemingly of their own accord. "If not, I've got no problem with sleeping rough."

"I shall see if I can find a room for you," I said.

* * *

-Arcturus's POV-

It was as I was preparing for bed, roughly an hour after sundown, that there was a knock at my door.

"Enter," I replied tersely.

It was a breathless hare that came into my room, carrying a wooden stick. A metal sphere about the size of a walnut was on one end of the rod, on the other end was a secure but off-center arrowhead, and a scroll was tied around the middle with a blood-red ribbon.

Once he caught his breath, the younger hare explained that he had just been relieved of his shift at the front door when a large black bat had just flown down out of the night. Without even a word of greeting, the bat had opened his footpaw and dropped the staff near the sentries on duty, and this hare had been chosen to pass it on, since he was already on his way inside.

"Who's it for?" I asked.

"The bat said, 'This is for the warrior who is as I am, and yet not as I am,'" the sentry said. "Those were his exact words, sir."

"Then this bally message was meant for Nightshade."

"I think so, sir." He hesitated. "I'd give it to him myself, but..."

"I understand," I told him soothingly. "I'll jolly well deliver the message for you, wot?"

"Thank you, sir." With a quick salute, he was off.

I admit it; I was curious as to how the residents of Bat Mountpit could have known Nightshade was here. I thought the answer might be found written on the scroll.

And perhaps it was, but I wouldn't know without first handing over the message; one look at the written language told me Nightshade would be the only one here who could decipher it.

Retying the ribbon around the scroll, I dressed myself and headed up to Nightshade's room.

* * *

For a second, I considered simply knocking, then thought better of it. I wouldn't get another opportunity like this, after all.

Slowly and carefully, I tested the door. It was unlocked.

As quietly as I possibly could, I opened the door. The room was dark, and no sound issued from within. Peeking inside, I could just barely make out Nightshade lying on his bed, still and silent with his back to me. His wings were folded so small that I couldn't see them under his blanket.

Out of respect for his affinity to the sky, Nightshade had been given a room with a fair-sized window, overlooking the sea. Taking my time, and using the pale light of the moon and stars through the window to navigate, I slowly padded my way over to the bed, silently reached out, quickly pulled back the top of the covers and...

Stared at an empty bed. Nightshade wasn't there. He was loose, he was gone, he was--

"A butterfly."

* * *

-Nightshade's POV-

The Major started at the sound of my voice, then turned and looked up at me.

"A single butterfly would have made more noise flapping it's wings..." I said, from where I was perched on all fours on the ceiling, "than you did opening that door."

I released my precarious hold, twisted in midair, and fell to the floor, landing softly on my footpaws. "Were you perhaps testing my skills?"

"Er..."

"Or perhaps you simply didn't want to wake me." My face turned thoughtful. "But then why, if that were the case, would you remove my blanket?"

"Er..."

Grinning good-naturedly at the hare, I turned my head and watched as his pupils stiffly followed mine. "I think your eyes are stuck, Major," I joked.

He blinked hard, shook his head to clear it, then made a sheepish apology. "So it wasn't just bally talk, was it? You really are that good, eh?"

"That good and then some, yes... But! If I should meet somebeast who knows something about stealth that I do not, then I would be happy to learn."

"Humble in victory, are you, wot? Very wise."

"I am still young," I said, relighting my bedside lanturn, "and I am prepared to accept that there are others out there who are more experienced than I." Once the lamp flame sparked to life, I sat down on the bed. "So, now that the test is ended, was there something else?"

Arcturus produced a scroll tied with a red ribbon. "This was just delivered here, seemingly for you, old chap." He opened the scroll, and made a show of looking hard at it. "But for the bally life of me, I can't read it."

A glance at the message told me why. "Hardly a shock," I said, taking the open scroll and turning it. "Not only is it written in old Cybertronian, but you were holding it sideways."

* * *

-Arcturus's POV-

"Can you read it?" I asked.

"Give me a second." Nightshade looked at the symbols, his face growing steadily more grim as his eyes swept over them, until he suddenly turned pale. "By the Pit... That... that evil little..."

"What?" I prompted. "What does it say?"

Nightshade closed the scroll. "Are you permitted to rouse Lord Russano from his sleep?" he asked severly.

"Well yes, if the situation jolly well calls for it, but what--"

"Then do so," Nightshade replied resolutely. "And find Skipper, too. They need to hear this, and I don't think I could speak these words a second time."

**

* * *

**

-End Chapter Twelve-


	13. The Challenge

To DarthCraftus: Too late; I'm already ahead of myself, by about three or four half-written chapters.

**

* * *

**

-The Challenge-

-Russano's POV-

"'To the Battlemaster Nightshade of the Order of Primus; Dear Sir'--"

"'Battlemaster'?" Skipper asked. "What does he mean, 'Battlemaster'?"

"Slagged if I know," Nightshade said irritably. "Let me read; maybe we'll find out." He turned his eyes back to the scroll.

"'I know that you are chasing me, and you have good reason to. But I grow weary of running, so this challenge I send to you. Single combat, you and I. No others will interfere. You have until the moon is born again to meet me here. Follow the arrow of black swift silver in order to learn where, but take a day to ready yourself; you should still have a few to spare.'"

Closing the scroll, Nightshade looked up at the three of us. "All the clues I need are in here, telling me when and where to meet Philaemos. We need to figure out what it means. When is the moon born again?"

"'Born again' refers to the new moon," I said, "or the night after the new moon, when you can just see the first sliver of new moonlight."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure; any badger worth his salt knows all about the moon. You have until the next new moon to face Philaemos, just over two weeks from tonight."

"But what part of that message made you go pale like you did?" Arcturus asked.

"There's more to the message than what I just read," Nightshade replied. "But I'm not sure if it's any use to hear the rest of it, and I _know_ you're not going to like it."

"Read it," Skipper said. "It might be unpleasant, but anything can be useful if it's used the right way, right?"

Nightshade nodded and opened the scroll again. "'If you're having second thoughts, know that I've an army on call... They're five thousand strong and fully equipped...'" He hesitated. "'...and I know the way to Redwall.'"

"_**BY GAD!**_" Arcturus exclaimed.

"'If you should still refuse to fight, that choice is yours to make. It shall be on your head alone, if the Redwallers never wake. I'm sure you know that I could raze the abbey with a thought. But here and now, I give my word: Face me,'" Nightshade finished bitterly, "'and I will not.'"

"What good is this creature's word?" Skipper asked.

"Less than worthless," Nightshade replied, releasing the scroll and letting it fall closed on its own. "Worst-case, Philaemos may set his five thousand against Redwall anyway. I wouldn't put it past him, not for a second." He sighed heavily. "In any case, it makes no difference. He might not even have an army at all, but I can't take that chance, not while Redwall is on the line, and he knows it."

His face hardened. "When it was just about the two of us, I would have been satisfied bringing him back alive. But if Philaemos harms one hair on any of the Redwallers' heads, all bets are off. And when I get to where I'm going, I'm going to make sure he knows that."

"But where's this jolly old 'arrow of black swift silver' that's supposed to tell you _where_ you're going?" Arcturus asked.

The four of us thought about it for a moment, then Nightshade snapped his fingers.

"What sort of creature delivered this message?" he asked.

"A bat," Arcturus answered.

"A black bat?"

"How'd you know, old bean?"

"What's another word for swift?" Nightshade countered.

"Fast?" I put in.

"Try 'quick'. As in quicksilver. Quicksilver is another name for mercury. And Mercury, in an ancient legend, was the name of a winged spirit who served as a messenger between other spirits."

"So, 'swift silver' refers to the bat who delivered this," I said. "The winged messenger."

"And 'black' is just his black fur," Skipper surmised. "It's this arrow of his that we need to find next; that's what you'll have to follow, Nightshade."

Arcturus's face suddenly lit up. "Hold hard for a moment, wot? I think we may have the bally thing already."

* * *

-Arcturus's POV-

From my room, I quickly collected the stick that the scroll had been tied around, and was back in Lord Russano's chamber in less than two minutes, rod in hand.

"What do you make of this?" I asked, handing the stick to Nightshade.

"I think you might have something there," he said, catching sight of the arrowhead. "We just need to figure out how to follow it."

For a long moment, he stared at the staff from every angle, slowly running his fingers over the wood, looking for anything that might reveal a hidden trick or secret.

Then he carefully balanced the staff on the end table, so that the stick itself was slightly raised off the surface, supported by the metal sphere on one end, and the tip of the arrowhead on the other.

When he released it, the stick fell onto its side. Nightshade stood it up again the same way and watched it fall a second time. Three times he repeated this process in silence, then spoke.

"It's weighted on one side, so it always falls the same way. Hmmm." After thinking about it for another minute, Nightshade looked at me. "Do you still have that knife? I've got an idea as to what this is, but I need iron or steel to test it."

Quickly, the large badger produced the weapon and handed it over.

Nightshade rested the blade against the metal sphere, then lifted the stick from the middle, giving a satisfied grunt when the blade remained adhered on the end of the staff.

"That's what I thought," he said, putting the staff and knife back on the end table. "It's a compass. Put this in still water, and the wood keeps the thing afloat. When the staff aligns itself to the north, the arrow points roughly toward the place where I'm supposed to meet Philaemos."

"It's a very clever trick," Lord Russano said, "but there's one major limitation: if this is a compass, then it'll always point in the same direction, no matter where you use it. Wherever this thing is supposed to point toward, it'll only work from here, or somewhere along the same axis."

"But why is one bally side weighted down?" I asked.

"To balance the staff; to make sure it doesn't roll in the water," the Skipper answered. "If the arrowhead isn't level, the trick doesn't work at all."

The Badger Lord turned toward Nightshade. "I'll see about preparing you for the encounter tomorrow morning, if you're amenable. It'll be easier after a night's sleep to consider what you'll need."

Nightshade nodded. "Agreed. We begin first thing tomorrow."

**

* * *

**

-End Chapter Thirteen-


	14. Ready for Battle

**-Ready for Battle-**

-Russanno's POV-

After lunch, and with map in paw, I led Nightshade to the underground cavern that was the lowest level of Salamandastron. The dark warrior was carrying the strange rod the had come wrapped in the challenge.

"This'll be the place to determine your path," I told him, pointing at a pool of water in the middle of the cave. "So if you're ready, I suggest we do it now."

"It's done," he replied, throwing the staff into the pond. While I spread the map over the floor, Nightshade watched as the stick slowly turned to the north.

"Which way do we go from here?" he asked quietly.

When the rod stopped, Nightshade turned to me. "South-southeast one-six-zero," he said.

I traced the angle along the map until I hit a specific location. "The only landmark you can find in that direction, in the time you've been given to get there, is the old ruin of Castle Floret. If I were a gambling beast, I'd say that's your battleground."

* * *

-Nightshade's POV-

"Welcome to the Forge Chamber," Lord Russano said, opening the door. "Mind the heat; this fire is responsible for heating the entire mountain."

"Have you ever been a double agent?" I replied, glancing back at him as I stepped inside the room. "Compared to being grilled by suspicious Decepticons, this is just a warm summer breeze."

Any other glib remarks I might have made flew out the window the moment I took my first good look into the chamber. The forge at the center of the far wall burned brightly enough to illuminate most of the room by itself; the rest of the walls were covered with all manner of armaments in all shapes and sizes, from pikes to swords to axes, all glinting and shimmering in the firelight. Six armor stands of varying size stood interspersed among the weapons displays. The largest and smallest of them were empty; the contents of the other four were hidden by large sections of cloth.

"Did you make all of these yourself?" I asked.

"A few of them are still left over from my predecessor, Lady Cregga Rose Eyes," Russano said. "But most of what you see in this room was made by my hands. I have to keep up a good selection, because every fighting hare that makes it into the Long Patrol is allowed a weapon of his or her choice. And so are you."

It took me a second to process that. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely," was the badger's reply. "This creature has made it clear that he won't let you go without a fight. So I'll help you give him one."

"Which weapon do you suggest, then?" I asked.

"That would depend on your fighting style," he explained. "What was your preferred melee weapon before you came here? Can you describe it for me?"

How do you describe a pair of ninjaken blades, comprised entirely of semitranslucent light, extending out of forearm-mounted projection units, to a creature from the Middle Ages?

"I honestly don't know if I _can,_" I told him. "I knew them as much by feel as by sight. They were twins, I know that much... Single-edged swords... The blades were about so long--" I held my paws roughly two feet apart. "--and the blunt edge was almost perfectly straight, while the cutting edge curved to meet it, like the long half of a crescent moon."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. In all the time that I had those swords, the cutting edges never once needed re-sharpening. Every time I freed the blades, they were as sharp as the day the were made."

"Hmmm..." Lord Russano selected a scimitar from the wall. "Twenty-two-inch blade, four inches at its widest point. Grindstone sharpened edge, thirty inches overall. Good for sweeping attacks, not so good for thrusting." He handed it to me and stepped back a few paces. "Does it feel like what you're used to?"

I swung the sword once or twice, and it slipped from my paw. "That answer your question?" I asked, retrieving the weapon from where it had clattered onto the floor.

"I suppose," the badger said, taking the scimitar and replacing it on the wall. "So, how was it different from yours?"

"It was heavier than one of mine, and the weight was balanced differently. The blades on mine were longer than that, and thinner."

"Longer, thinner, and lighter. All right." The next weapon to enter my paw was a sabre. "Then how about this? Twenty-seven-inch blade, two inches at the base, with a tapered point and a hammered edge. Leather-bound handle, thirty-five inches overall. Quite versatile. Give it a few swings; see how it feels."

So I did. The sword fit well in my hand, and felt perfect as the blade whistled through the air. I successfully sped through a swift slashing sequence of seven circular, sweeping strikes, finishing with a forward thrust.

"Impressive," the badger said as I lowered the blade.

"As is this sabre," I replied, looking at the blade. "One of yours?"

"My most recent work," he told me, handing me a scabbard. "I just finished it yesterday. I only have the one, though."

Sheathing the sword, I fixed the scabbard onto my belt. "One will work well enough," I said, looking at my reflection in the slack tub's water.

"Looks good on you, too," Russano replied. "But I think it needs a little something extra."

When I looked back at him, he was holding my knife toward me, handle first. Accepting the blade, I stuck it back into its empty sheath and took another look at my reflection. "Functional _and_ fashionable. I like it."

"You'll probably need armor," Russano said. "Any preferences?"

"I wouldn't know," I replied, turning back toward him again. "My defensive skill is more dependent on agility and flexibility than on enhanced resilience. In battle, I've never worn any extra armor that was really worth the term. It weighs me down, or it hinders my free movement, or it just plain can't stand up to the enemy's weapons."

"Indeed? Then I think you would be well rewarded to consider... this." He removed the sheet from the third-largest of the six stands.

As I locked eyes with the empty helmet, I knew immediately that this armor was meant for me alone. If ever I'd had any doubts of that, they flew away when I discovered that it was a perfect fit as well.

* * *

-Arcturus's POV-

The Skipper and I had been waiting outside while Lord Russano was helping Nightshade prepare to face his challenge.

It wasn't long before the door opened and Nightshade emerged, wearing armor that could only be described as a steel skin.

Thick cloth protected his joints, while bands and sheets of metal had been strategically mounted on his chest, over his shoulders, and around his hips and limbs, shaped and positioned perfectly so they wouldn't interfere with his movement. Even his wings were protected; I could see the thumb-claws sticking up from between the steel plates that had been folded around the arm and finger bones.

But what really caught my eye was the helmet. When I had first seen Nightshade's ears, I was certain that no helmet could possibly fit over them. Lord Russano had overcome that obstacle by placing a hinge at the back of the helmet, which allowed the ear-holes to close around Nightshade's ears; a locking clasp on either side of Nightshade's head, just behind his cheeks, secured the rear plate in its closed position.

"Impressive," Skipper remarked, slowly running a finger along one of the two-inch fangs that extended down from the mask's muzzle. "Very impressive."

"You look ready for a jolly old scrape," I said.

Opening the locks of his helmet, the dark warrior lifted it away from his head and held it under his arm. "When the fur starts to fly, I will be."

* * *

**-End Chapter Fourteen-**


	15. Back on the Road

**-Back on the Road-**

-Skipper's POV-

Nightshade and I set out after breakfast the next morning with a full pack of food each, heading south. Nightshade carried his armor in another pack, and his sabre and knife were on his belt again. A chart had been given to us before we'd left, which marked the most direct route on foot from Salamandastron to the castle ruin.

Two hours after we'd broke camp on the second day, Nightshade stopped short, his large ears twitching back and forth spasmodically.

After giving him a moment to focus on the stray sound, I asked what it was. Nightshade looked back toward Salamandastron with an expressionless face. "An old friend," he responded.

A few seconds later, Major Arcturus bounded into view, his broadsword thumping against his hip. The fighting hare carried his own pack on his back, and as he came closer, I saw that he held the staff/compass in his paw; the scroll that bore Philaemos's challenge had been tied around it with a dark crimson ribbon.

"What's shakin'?" Nightshade asked, as Arcturus came within speaking distance.

"Lord Russano seemed to think you'd need this, old bean," Arcturus replied, handing him the staff. "And I thought you could jolly well use an extra paw on the road. I know you have to face this Philaemos creature alone, but I can at least help make sure you're in a bally fit state to do that when you get there, wot!"

"I welcome your aid," Nightshade said, accepting the rod. "But as far as I can tell, this stick and this scroll have served their purpose. What more are they worth?"

"I asked Lord Russano the same question. He only told me 'You never realize how precious something is until you realize that you don't have it.'"

"Well, that's certainly true enough."

* * *

For a while, we pressed on in silence. As the sun sank and we broke out our evening meal, Arcturus tried to lighten the mood with an amusing ditty. I myself had no trouble laughing through it, but in terms of humour, Nightshade won paws-down; a moment after Arcturus had finished singing, the dark warrior leaned in and said, calmly as you please, "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I wasn't listening."

By the time we'd cleared the mountains at the end of our fourth day, our journey had taken on a fairly simple pattern: With the sun above us, we trudged onward, not saying much. When the dark of the night closed around us, we slept and stood watch in turns, and still didn't say much. Nightshade was the most silent of the three of us. I could only guess what was going through his mind; most of the time, he only grunted when spoken to.

After about the thirtieth time Nightshade grunted at him, Arcturus tried to provoke a more substantial response. He leaned toward my ear and, knowing that the dark warrior would hear him, remarked that Nightshade's voice was going to atrophy soon if he didn't say something other than "Hmph."

Whether the attempt worked or not is debatable; while Nightshade did respond, all he did was drag his grunt out for a half-second longer, extending a "Hmph" into a "Harumph."

* * *

-Arcturus's POV-

It was on the afternoon of the seventh day that we ran into a spot of trouble. We were just stepping into the forests of Southsward country when Nightshade suddenly halted. He gestured for silence before either of us could ask questions, and pressed his ear against a hole in a hollow tree.

"What are you doing?" Skipper whispered.

"It amplifies vibrations," Nightshade responded. "But you have to know how to decypher them and trace them back to their source, or it's all just gibberish."

"Neat trick," I commented.

"Yes, it is; please be quiet," the dark warrior said gruffly.

After a moment, he pushed himself away from the tree, a grim look on his face. "Stay alert," he said. "We're not alone here."

Truer words had never been spoken; a group of squirrels ambushed us from the undergrowth not half an hour later. Before we could even draw our weapons, we were surrounded by twenty-one fierce-looking archers, seven arrows trained on each of us.

* * *

**-End Chapter Fifteen-**


	16. Judgement

**-Judgement-**

-Nightshade's POV-

Knowing that I'd be skewered seven different ways if I tried anything, I steadily took my hand off of my sword handle. Arcturus followed suit as the Skipper lowered his fists.

One of the larger squirrels slowly relaxed her bow. Returning her arrow to its quiver, she spoke in a calm, fierce voice.

"You are trespassing."

She gestured around herself. "This is our forest. You do not belong here. What is your business?"

"I was summoned to answer a challenge to battle," I told her, holding up the rod with the scroll tied around it. "I would not be here otherwise."

She lifted a paw toward the otter and the hare, still bravely facing the arrows pointed at them. "And who are these?"

"They stand by my side, to make certain I am fit to face the challenge."

She took a moment to consider this, then spoke to the rest of the archers. "Bring them with us. The Elder Guardian will judge them."

* * *

-Arcturus's POV-

We trekked onward for the remainder of the afternoon, heading deeper into the forest. Our escort party had lowered their weapons, but their careful vigil remained. There was no doubt of who was in control here.

The one who had spoken for the group led the way to a giant tree. The trunk alone was big enough around for a family to make a proper, cozy home inside it.

Raising a paw to her mouth, the squirrel gave a sharp series of whistles from between her fingers. A dull thumping sounded from within the tree, and an oblong section of the trunk swung inward, revealing a doorway.

"Inside," the squirrel said over her shoulder as she stepped through, saluting the sentry who had opened the door on her way.

We were led up a spiral stairwell, wrapped around a thick support pillar in the middle of the tree trunk. A trapdoor at the top of the stairs led into an open platform, spreading out among the tree branches. The thickest branches at the edge of the platform supported small, sturdy huts between them, built for one or two creatures.

The largest and most ornate of these had a sentry on either side of the door, which was even now swinging open to reveal an older, but undeniably strong-willed female.

The elder threw a paw in our direction. "Who enters our forest?"

"This one claims to have been summoned here, Elder Guardian," the escort leader answered, pointing at Nightshade. "He says he is to face the Battlemaster's Challenge, and presents a Compass Staff as proof of his claim."

"Is this true?" the older squirrel asked. "You have been recognized as a Battlemaster, and challenged thusly?"

"I have," Nightshade replied.

"And who is your challenger?"

Nightshade's eye took on an angry glint. "I know him as Philaemos."

The mention of the name caused an uproar among the surrounding squirrels. Looking around myself, I could see that many of them could not believe their ears.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

The loud noise drew my gaze back to the Elder Guardian, who was rising from the spot where she had pounded on the platform for silence. She stepped forward.

"Lord Philaemos himself issued the challenge? Have you proof of this?"

Nightshade paled slightly under his fur. "None," he replied, holding out the rod. "I have only the scroll bearing the challenge itself."

The elder untied the scroll from the staff and examined it thoroughly.

"This is sufficient," she said, after a moment. "Among the Southsward forest, only Lord Philaemos and myself know this script so well." Turning her gaze to the assembly, she raised her voice. "The Battlemaster Nightshade shall be given passage to Castle Cretrades."

"And what of us?" the Skipper asked.

"Mind your tongue, trespasser," the escort leader said abruptly.

"Calm yourself, Atora," the Elder Guardian told her, before turning to the Skipper. "Have you also been recognized as a Battlemaster?" she asked. "Either of you?"

"We have not," I replied.

"Then why do you travel in the company of one?"

"Our task is to protect him on his journey," the Skipper said.

"Protect him from what?" Atora spat. "The Battlemaster is a creature of purest balance in combat, and needs no help."

"Even the strongest warrior may be overwhelmed by indefinite numbers," I replied. "It is the first thing my commanding officer taught me when I joined the ranks of the Long Patrol."

"Truly, then, your commander had wisdom in abundance," the Elder Guardian said. "However, only a warrior recognized as a Battlemaster may enter Castle Cretrades freely."

"What must be done for a warrior to be so recognized?"

"Among these outposts, there is but one way. You must defeat a tresspasser in single combat, as witnessed by the Elder Guardian of that outpost. In this case, me."

My eyes flicked toward the Skipper, as the otter's eyes turned to me.

The Elder Guardian nodded slowly as our gaze locked. "The two of you catch on quickly," she said. "For either of you to recognized as a Battlemaster, you must first combat each other. The victor shall be granted passage to Castle Cretrades. You may refuse, of course. Despite your tresspassing, standing by a recognized Battlemaster is no crime, and if you are not prepared to fight each other, you may both leave this forest unharmed."

"And suppose we do accept, and one of us wins his passage," the Skipper asked, not taking his eyes off of Arcturus. "What would become of the loser?"

"Did I not explain?" the old squirrel replied. "No, I suppose not. This battle is to the death."

* * *

**-End Chapter Sixteen-**


	17. Convolution

**-Convolution-**

-Nightshade's POV-

"Didn't you just say standing by a recognized Battlemaster isn't a crime?" I asked, watching my companions. "Why would you sentence one of these two to death at the other's hands?"

"The fact that they stand by your side mitigates the crime of trespassing, for which the sentence would otherwise be death," the elder replied. "However, it is no longer under my control. Their options have been placed before them, and this is their choice to make as they please."

For a moment, neither Arcturus nor the Skipper so much as twitched, their gaze still locked between the two.

"To the death, right?" I asked. "That _is_ what you said, isn't it?"

"It is," the Elder replied, not turning her eyes from the standoff.

Without warning, I jumped her from the side, tackling her to the ground with the claws of one hand latched onto her wrist. "Good to know."

"Your would risk bringing the wrath of the entire outpost down on you, when you could have simply walked away?" the Elder asked, grimacing against the pain.

I placed the blade of my knife against the Elder's neck. "Nobeast is going to die for me unless I kill them myself."

"This is your own choice?"

"It is."

Carefully turning her head, she looked to the Skipper and Arcturus, who by this time were looking at us with astonished faces. "And if you were in the same position, would you do the same?"

Arcturus spoke first. "I would."

"As would I."

The Elder Guardian smiled. "Well said, warriors. By my authority as Elder Guardian of this outpost, I recognize your courage and loyalty. Might I have your names?"

"Skipper of Otters."

"Arcturus, of Salamandastron."

"Very well, then," the Elder said. "In the name of Lord Philaemos, I name you Battlemasters, Skipper and Arcturus. And by your right _as_ Battlemasters, you are hereby granted passage to Castle Cretrades."

She turned her eyes back to mine. "Now... can you let me up, please?"

* * *

**-End Chapter Seventeen-**


	18. The Arrival

**-Arrival-**

-Skipper's POV-

With that bit of drama concluded, the Elder Guardian signaled a younger warrior to bring forward a flat box. The moderate supply of medals contained within bore an identical design stamped onto the gold surface; a sword, an ax, and a spear crossed three ways, and surrounded by a circle of fire.

"These mark you as recognized Battlemasters," she said, handing one to each of the three of us. "Present them to the guards at Castle Cretrades, and you will be admitted with no trouble."

Having said her piece, she sent us on our way.

For two days we trekked through the Southsward forest, flanked by a small company of escorts. Because they knew the land better than we did, they did most of the foraging for us, giving us a few options as to what to eat when we needed to, and taking the leftovers for themselves once we had made our selections.

Nightshade was suspicious of their generosity at first, believing that we were "dining at the enemy's table", but even a born fighter cannot fight his own hunger for long. Eventually, he accepted a meal built of various kinds of fruit.

In the early morning of the third day, we stepped out of the forestland, and got our first look at Castle Cretrades.

From the outside, the ruins of Castle Floret looked to have been masterfully restored; every fallen stone from the outer wall had been restacked and stuck back into place. You would never know from looking at it that the fortress at the top of the plateau had ever been abandoned for even one season, much less dozens.

The leader of the foraging party gave us a moment to stare before calling our attention. "Our task here is done, Battlemasters, and we must return to our post." He threw a salute at us. "Whatever the cause you fight for, may you fight well."

Without waiting for a reply, he and the others shot up the nearest trees, quickly disappearing from sight.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Nightshade's POV-

Even though we were only a morning's walk to the plateau itself, it was still a good distance to the front gate at the southern side of the castle, and it took us the better part of the day to cover that distance.

Around the middle of the afternoon, as we were closing in on the path leading to the front gate, I heard a shout from the top of the wall. "Warriors approaching!"

The gate opened immediately, and fifteen soldiers marched down the walkway in single file, stopping just outside as the gate closed behind them. When we stepped within throwing range, the soldiers readied their fifteen identical lances for melee combat, in perfect unison.

"Well," Arcturus said, pulling his medal from his tunic, "here's hoping these bally things work, wot."

Skipper followed suit. "Agreed."

"Who approaches?" the largest of the soldiers asked.

Raising my own medal high, I let it glint in the sunlight momentarily. "I am Nightshade, of Mt. Primus. I come to answer the Battlemaster's Challange, as set by Philaemos."

The voice of the front guard broke his stance. "And who are these with you?"

"I am Major Arcturus of Salamandantron..."

"And I am the Skipper of the Mossflower Otters. We stand by Nightshade's side against ambush."

The two of them held their medals out in plain sight.

"Enter with him then, Battlemasters," the lead guard said. "But you will find no ambush here; we are creatures of discipline, not deception."

The soldiers raised their lances and stepped aside, allowing us passage to the opening gate. At the same time, three heavy thumps resounded from inside the wall, followed by a sentry's voice announcing and then repeating our names as we'd presented them.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Arcturus's POV-

My first look inside the castle walls left me momentarily dumbfounded; that guard had not lied about these beasts being disciplined.

Hundreds of creatures of every shape and size; squirrels, foxes, rats, mice, ferrets, hares, and everything in between, all working together on their various tasks, showing none of the animosity that was often expected between these creatures. Indeed, the workers nearest to us showed little emotion at all, going about their tasks mechanically, as though this was all they ever did.

The thought made me cringe inwardly. A lifetime of service, never knowing anything other than the job you've been doing since you were strong enough to begin; the very idea frightened me. I could not help but wonder what became of these creatures when they were no longer strong enough to continue.

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a large rat.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Nightshade's POV-

He was more well-fed by this time, and the tunic he wore looked much better than the ragged shirt he'd had, but I recognized his face instantly; it was the same rat who had attacked the Skipper and I on our first day of travel. "You."

"Yes. Me," he replied, with a hint of modesty. "Surprised?"

"A little." I wasn't; it made perfect sense that Philaemos would construct a disguise more suitable for this world before confronting me. But for the sake of appearences, I couldn't reveal the knowledge to my allies. "What are you doing here?"

"My current purpose is to lead you to the throne room; Lord Philaemos is quite anxious to see you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**-End Chapter Eighteen-**


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